


The Time Will Come Again

by swamppopsoda



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jacque Schnee has no rights, Like ur gonna be a rotisserie chicken by the end of this, M/M, Magic, Oscar is son and boy, Oscar voice: my cool gay dads, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Raven Branwen you're on thin ice, Slow Burn, all SFW, hold onto your butts, some descriptions of violence but nothing too horrible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swamppopsoda/pseuds/swamppopsoda
Summary: Ever since he retired as the General of the Atlesian Guard, James Ironwood has been the Tin Woodsman of Telamon Forest. He has lived happily with his best friend Clover, the Fisherman of King’s Creek, and intends to continue to do so until his dwindling days. But his peaceful retirement is thrown into a tizzy when a dusty old crow crashes, quite literally, into his and Clover’s life. And he brings with him a world of wizards, witches, magic, relics, and just maybe, a reason to fight again.
Relationships: James Ironwood/Clover Ebi, James Ironwood/Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen/James Ironwood, call it a twink sandwhich, past/mentioned Cloqwork, they all have two hands - Relationship
Comments: 45
Kudos: 179





	1. Chapter 1- The Tin Woodsman

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time doing something like this in years so I figured I'd come out of the gate swinging with a year (ish)-long project for one of my favorite shows. For now I'll simply say that it is a fantasy au and a different sort of spin on the original story. I hope you all enjoy and feedback and comments are greatly appreciated.

**THWACK.** The heavy sound of an axe falling on its mark echoed through the empty forest. **THWACK.** It reverberated through the trees and filled the air. **THWACK.** A faint hum followed each beat like the melody of a song. **THWACK.** The hum faded out. Dispersed and chased itself through the trees into silence. For a moment all was still. But the song wasn’t over yet. The silence was just the bridge. A great creak and then a _crack_ split the air and signaled the outro. Creaking and cracking and shattering and splintering. One final great **_CRASH_** in a percussive flair, and the song was done. 

But there was no standing ovation to praise the virtuoso. Because there was only one person here today to hear this tree fall. 

James Ironwood placed down his axe and pulled at the dark blue handkerchief that hung at his side. Wiping his sweat beaded brow he let out a satisfied sigh and sized up the tree he had felled. It wasn’t anything too big, but it was enough. 

He squinted up at the sky trying to gauge what time he had left. Winter was fast encroaching and the bare boned branches of the trees reached into the fading light in earnest. He had an hour. Maybe two if the cloud cover didn’t get worse. Wasting no time James began to hack the tree down to size. The lateral branches came off and were tied into a large bundle. The rest of the tree he cut into manageable sized logs. When he had finally finished tying the last of it onto his sled, the pale sun had dipped low to the horizon and the tips of the trees had begun to bleed into the shadow of the sky. James’ breath came out in frosty puffs as he secured the harness and struck out for home. 

Home, as luck would have it, was never too far in these woods. He smelled it before he saw it. The dark aroma of smoke as it ribboned through the air. That was good. That meant Clover was home already. James tugged at the straps that wound across his chest and doubled his pace. Clover being home meant that he was probably cooking. A practice that James unfortunately still had yet to master. Clover on the other hand both knew how to cook and did it willingly. The man never could settle for sitting around. He always had to be moving, to be doing something. Often it made James wonder why he had ever come with him. 

Before he could follow that well-treaded path of thought, the tree line broke revealing home. 

It was nothing too special. A simple cabin, only one story with a porch lining the front. From here one could clearly see the three sections it was broken into, not including the bath house built into the back: there was main cabin area which he knew was big enough for a small kitchen and a living area, James’ workshop which had been built onto the left side of the cabin only recently, and then on the right side was the bedroom. When they had been designing the cabin, James and Clover agreed it would be better for them to just share a room rather than insist on having two separate rooms. Especially back when James had still been recovering. 

James headed for the workshop first. He pulled the sled to rest under the low awning and untied the logs, stacking most of them onto the impressive wall of firewood that already resided there. A few choice pieces he put to the side. Those would go into the workshop for him to use later. The large bundle of sticks would come into the house with him for the fire. Wood stacked and sled propped up away from the elements, he picked up the logs and bundle and shouldered into the workshop. 

Clover was definitely home. A lantern had been lit and sat near the workbench, illuminating the room in a soft glow that James could easily see in. The door to the rest of the house was propped open letting in some heat and more warm light. James dropped off his chosen logs and unlaced his boots. Finally he tucked the bundle under his arm and made his appearance. 

“James! Good, that was you. I felt a rush of cold air but I didn’t hear you come in, was worried for a second that we had a draft somewhere.”

“Nope, no draft. Just me and my sticks I’m afraid.”

“Well you and your sticks are certainly more welcome than a draft. More specifically you Mr. Hot Body.” Clover winked over at James from where he stood by the fire and James responded with an exaggerated eye roll. 

“Please, like you even get cold. Honestly Clover what have I told you about wearing sleeves?”

Clover shrugged his _bare_ shoulders and stepped out of the fireplace. The fireplace was James’ pride and joy. It stood in the exact center of the large room of the cabin as though it were the centerpiece. It was embedded about a foot into the ground with the sides measuring seven feet. The spot for the fire was a large pit in the middle surrounded by various hooks and grates for cooking at different heats. Directly above the pit was a brick chimney that covered the whole ceiling area. It was supported by four brick pillars, one in each corner, and dropped down to form a low catch that kept smoke from seeping into the rest of the house. The whole thing was roomy enough that it acted as the kitchen with shelves and hooks screwed into the pillars and parts of the ceiling to hold utensils, pots, ingredients, and the like. 

James loved it. It warmed the whole house and allowed light from the fire to spill into every corner. When he had told Clover about the idea Clover had only laughed and said, “Only _you_ would come up with a walk-in fireplace James.”

But Clover wasn’t laughing now. No siree. Instead he was defending his stance on not wearing sleeves during winter. 

“Sleeves make casting hard. And I kind of gave up last year when my arms broke the seams of a shirt while I was trying to land a big one.” he reached up into one of the cupboards and pulled out two bowls. 

James took his cue and pulled two spoons out of the silverware drawer he stood next to, “Just get larger shirts. I’m bigger than you Clover and I spend all day lifting my arms and flexing my back and my shirts still somehow remain intact and untorn. Plus you have the more pliable body. You have no excuse and you _are_ losing this argument.” 

Clover set down the bowls and ducked back into the fireplace, “Presentation James! I gotta look good while I do what I do. And it still doesn’t change the fact that sleeves get in the way of my fishing. I get my sleeve wet once and then it’s dripping down my arm and getting my hands wet and messing up my grip for another hour. And in the cold weather sleeves don’t dry out as quickly so there’s a greater chance of hypothermia.” He put on a large pair of mitts and carefully picked up the simmering pot that stood just far enough from the fire to not boil over. 

“Like you’re sloppy enough to get your sleeve wet in the first place. And look good for who?” James busied himself digging around for two cups and a bottle of mulled wine he knew was around somewhere, “There’s no one out here Clover.”

“Says you. On the river anyone could drift by. In fact, do you want to know who I saw today? Neon and Flynt. Kids say ‘hi’ by the way. They were headed into town and Neon wanted to see if the river had frozen over yet for ice skating. And we happened to have a very nice conversation.”

Clover placed the pot on the table and began to spoon steaming broth into the bowls. With a triumphant grunt James found the wine and went to pour some into the small cast iron teapot they kept handy. Clover waited until he had put the wine on a small hook near the flames to warm up before sealing his point and winning the argument… again. 

“Sleeves just don’t make sense for me. They’re tight, they get in the way, and they’re a hazard to my health.”

James groaned and sat down and Clover mimicked the movement, “Whatever let’s just eat.”

After that the conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. Both men enjoyed their soup and when it was warm, poured themselves a healthy helping of wine. When all had been cleaned and cleared Clover stepped outside to see if the stars were out while James opted to sit on the edge of the fireplace and warm his aching stumps. 

He watched the fire and let out a tired sigh, glancing down at his right hand. 

It was metal. Almost his whole right side was in fact. He seemed to always forget that fact while somehow also remaining painfully aware of it. The light from the fire flickered and glared strangely against the curved metal surface as he flexed his fingers. If he squinted he could just make out the dark outlines of the runes that were etched into every overlapping plate. The shifting light made it hard to discern their exact shapes but he didn’t need to. He knew them well enough. Over the course of the last two years he had all but committed every rune to memory from hours of staring at his appendages. 

Even after all this time it was still strange. 

James scoffed and turned his eyes away from their inscrutable examination of his digits.

All this time. Like two years was any time at all. It felt like forever though. Thank the Brothers for Clover, James likely would have gone mad if he had not had his closest friend here with him. But still... 

He watched the sparks from the fire blankly as they swirled and diverted his thoughts from his old life and where that would inevitably go and focused on his new life. He had to start working on his next project soon that was for sure. And he needed to go into town for food and supplies and to drop off a few trinkets. He had to remember to check his mail this time. He wondered briefly if Pietro had sent a letter back. And of course the creaky board on the porch needed fixing. 

A hand on his shoulder interrupted his musing. 

“Hey,” Clover’s eyes shone glassy in the dimming firelight, “You should head to bed. It’s late. I’ll be in in a bit.”

James smiled up at his and placed his human hand over Clover’s, “Thanks. I’m heading out early tomorrow. Going to try and make a couple trips before the first real snowfall.”

“Ok, don’t forget to wear your long sleeves.”

***

The next day dawned, cold and pale. James shivered as the cold air kissed his face and he quietly shut the front door behind him. A dusting of snow had drifted down at some point during the night and coated everything in a delicate white. In spite of this the cloud cover hadn’t let up in the slightest. The sky still resided, grey and unmoving in its empyrean throne above the world. James shouldered his bag and got ready to trek out into the winter wastes.

The forest was always seemed different after it snowed. Something about it just seemed stiller, more fragile. Like if he stepped on a branch and it snapped the air itself would shatter. 

This was a silence that none dared to disturb. But James had a job to do. He found a good place deep in the trees and the song of the Woodsman began again. Today it seemed louder. It echoed farther into the trees and felt more like an infringement on the unspoken rule that the cold silence was to remain undisturbed. 

It seemed however, that James was not the only one intent of breaking the rules of winter. In the split second between whacks something made him stop. The harsh cawing of a crow. He paused for a moment longer, axe still raised, to see if he would hear it again. Sure enough there came a second time through the trees the corvid’s call. James put down the axe and turned his eyes up. He had never heard crows or ravens in this forest. Why now? And why only one? His curiosity prompted him to leave his work for a moment to seek out the anomaly. 

He didn’t have to go very far. 

The cawing stopped and so did James. He closed his eyes and listened, trying to figure out where the bird had been. The air was completely quiet. That is until a loud screech came from directly overhead. He barely had time to register the flurry of feathers that was falling towards him before it hit him square in the face. He dropped to the ground sputtering and flapping his hands to try and rid his face of the down that now stuck to it. The cawing began again, now directed angrily at James, as the bird screamed on the ground next to him. 

James picked feathers out of his beard and turned his attention to his indignant avian visitor. He, really wasn’t sure what to do. The crow was flopping around on the ground rather pitifully. Its ear-splitting caws had been replaced with sympathetic clicks and chirrups and it attempted to right itself. Its left wing was bent at what looked like a painful angle and there were small stains of red forming on the ground around it. It was clearly worse for wear. 

Even as James watched it stopped struggling and simply laid there. Its breast rising and falling rapidly and its bright red eye slowly closed. 

“Well,” James said to the once again quieted forest, “this is certainly a situation.”

He contemplated just leaving the bird to die for a moment but decided against it. It was such a beautiful creature. The feathers that weren’t broken or missing or covered in half congealed blood were glossy and elegantly dark. It was big too. He had seen the royal ravens back in Atlas and this bird was at least half the size of them; far larger than any common crow. 

It let out a quiet rattle and James’ heart squeezed. 

“Oh alright. Come on then you.” As gently as he could, James scooped up the crow and walked back over to his sled. He wrapped the bird in his kerchief and then carefully bundled it in the scarf he was wearing for good measure. He would come back here tomorrow to finish his work. For now though he deftly gathered up what he had done, choosing to remain focused on getting this bird back alive. 

The crow remained still and unresponsive the whole way back to the cabin and it made James worry. 

He left the sled under the awning and went straight into the house. Clover had left a while ago but embers still burned warm in the fire pit. 

“Hmm maybe let’s not put the injured bird by the open fire,” James muttered and grabbed a basket as he passed through the living area to the bedroom. It took less than a minute for him to make an acceptable nest for the crow out of scraps of fabric they had lying around. 

It still hadn’t stirred as he carefully unwrapped it and placed it in the basket. 

“How does one go about giving first aid to a bird?” James ran his fingers gently over the oddly bent wing. 

“Water is probably good, and food.” he went back into the living area to see what he could find. A shallow dish of water, a slightly stale piece of bread, and a few grains and nuts were all James could come up with. If it were a human, he would have made soup to help them warm up. But he didn’t know the first thing about birds. Clover might know something, he seemed to frequent the past time of birding. So James just had to wait until Clover got home. 

“Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.” James sighed. If the crow died, and it probably would, he would just feel bad. He had to at least try though. 

And he’d start by warming up the place. He closed the door to the bedroom in case the crow woke up and started flapping around. Last thing he needed was to explain to Clover why they were having crispy crow cruller for dinner. Stoking the sleepy flames into a welcoming fire took no time at all. James stood, satisfied and wiped soot off his hands. 

A sudden ruckus came from the next room. A rancorous cawing tore through the cabin followed by a frenzied flapping and then a strange sort of silence. Silence like the forest moments before a gale blows through. The silence only lasted a moment before a large crash prompted James to rush in and see what was happening. But when he burst into the room it wasn’t the injured crow he found. Instead, there scrambling on the floor amidst a few fallen feathers, was a man. A gangly, pale, and very ragged looking, man.

James stood dumbstruck in the doorway, completely taken off his guard as he watched this intruder continue to clamber on the floor trying, and failing, to get up. His head jerked rapidly as he seemed to try and take in surroundings. It was a strangely bird-like movement. Before James could do anything, the man’s head jerked towards him. His wild eyes landed on James’ face and in a deep gravelly voice that shot straight to James’ core he growled, “Where the hell am I?” 


	2. The Skin Changer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow the positive feedback from chapter 1 had me close to tears thank you so much to everyone who read, commented, or left kudos I really do appreciate it! I hope you all like the second chapter because this one was a bit of a doozy to write.

James was so caught up by the brilliant vermillion that stared into him that he didn’t register the question until the second time it was asked. 

“Well? Where the hell am I? Who are you?”

“Huh,” James truly and genuinely had no idea what to do, “You’re the bird.”

“No dumbass the bird is me.” the man scooted back across the floor until his back found the wall. 

James took a moment to process. He had heard tell of shape shifters and skin changers but he had always held those stories at an arm's length. Now it just so happened that the crow that crashed into him today was one such story. Funny how things worked out.

“You crashed into me. In the forest just about an hour ago, do you remember that?”

“That was you? I thought I’d crashed into a tree or maybe a brick wall. Finely chiseled marble statue if we’re reaching.” the skin changer never once took his eyes off James. 

James decided to take a chance and stepped towards him, “You’re in my cabin. My name is James Ironwood. I didn’t know you were a skin changer, I thought you were just a crow. I had hoped to help you; you seemed to be in pretty rough shape.”

“What do you have a screw loose _Ironwood_? Shoulda just left me I’m fine.” even as he said it the man winced and his right hand reflexively went to his side before he could stop it. 

“Uh huh and you seem to have feathers in your brain little bird because you are very clearly not _fine._ ”

“Oh **Hoo** so we’re pulling out the bird jokes now? It’s been what three minutes? Do you make jokes about Faunus’ heritage too? Racist. Thanks but no thanks. It’s a nice gesture but I can’t stay here. I have places to be.”

The man made a very convincing attempt to stand. He peeled his right hand off his ribs and pressed it against the wall for support. His left arm stayed limp and half hidden behind him as he turned. 

He made it three steps to the door before he began to wobble. Another step and James moved to block his path. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go. Not in this condition. I don’t know who you are but I know that you won’t even make it out of these woods before you drop and probably freeze to death. And on my conscious I won’t let that happen.”

Those glittering red eyes narrowed to slits, “Jim was it? I am going to say this once. Either you let me leave, or things will get very bad for you _very_ quickly.” 

It was an intimidation tactic that would have worked on most people; but James was not most people. And he was prepared to stand his ground. 

“It’s James. And I don’t think so.” he crossed his arms, shoulders back, chin up and chest out. Holdfast stance.

The man’s eyes flicked down for a second to James’ arm. His eyes widened the slightest bit as the metal glinted against the fading afternoon light. He looked back up at James’ face, expression unreadable, and then shrunk back, giving the room a quick once over. He paused, catching sight of the window, and then looked back to James. 

“Window’s locked, don’t bother.” James dropped his stance and opened his arms as if to approach a scared animal. Which in a way he was, “Listen, please just stay. You won’t do yourself any good going back out there. It’ll be dark soon and it’s no proble- woah!”

The man’s legs suddenly gave out from under him and he pitched towards the very hard wooden floor. James lunged forward and in a split second diverted his fall so that he landed, albeit roughly, on James’ bed. 

“See what I mean?” James stared at the man under him; his long hair had fallen away from his face revealing a snarl plastered over sharp features. Something cold itched against James’ neck as a cold breeze washed over his back and it took him a moment to realize that the man had pulled out a knife from somewhere and was holding it to his throat. Huh. Didn’t see that coming.

“Get. Off. **Now.”** he snarled through gritted teeth. 

James pushed off the bed and took a few steps back, hands once again up near his shoulders in a gesture of passivity. The man pushed himself up as James moved back, grimacing as his left arm buckled under the strain. 

Keeping the knife pointed at James he stood and circled towards the door. James could have easily disarmed him but he didn’t want to risk further injury. And besides, they didn’t have any drafts in this house. 

The man reached the door, casting one last look at James, before turning and bolting out of the room. Or at least he would have. Instead he managed to turn and push off only to have his face meet Clover’s chest. Strong, bare arms had him weaponless and on the ground, wrists pinned above his head, in a matter of seconds. 

“You’re home early.” James picked up the discarded knife and placed it on a shelf. 

Clover shrugged, “Fish just weren’t biting today. Lucky you I guess. Anyways who’s your new friend? I thought you said there wasn’t anyone out here.”

“Are you two seriously doing this now? Let me go dammit!” the man spat at Clover.

Clover shot James a look and James just shrugged. He took a moment to look, really look, at the man he had unknowingly brought into his home. 

Long dark locks of feathery hair shot through with wisps of grey hung over his eyes and brushed the tops of his slim shoulders. His pupils were dilated as his eyes unfocused as they flicked frantically around the room. Scraggly stubble coated his chin and neck. His chest rose and fell at a pace James worried was too rapid. The clothes the man wore were faded, torn, dirty, and in all sorts of disrepair. And through them James could easily see the stranger himself was in no better state. Blood caked the left arm he had trying so hard to hide, he was clearly underfed and the dark rings of exhaustion around his eyes made it look like he’d gotten punched in the face. His legs moved restlessly from where he was pinned under Clover. James knew the feeling; his brain was telling him to move, to fight back and run, but his body was just too tired. 

This was a man whom misfortune followed it would seem. 

“Clover,” he gently put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “he’s not going anywhere.”

Clover looked at James and then back down at the man. He saw what James meant and rose in one fluid motion. 

They both stepped back and watched as the man on the floor struggled to maintain consciousness. 

“I can’t stay here,” the venom in his voice was gone as he gasped for breath, “I need to get to my nei- I need to find him. I can’t- I can’t let you down. Oz…” his words dropped into fragmented whispers of sound. His legs stopped moving and his eyes slowly drooped. 

James knelt next to the man’s head and brushed away a lock of silky hair that had strayed into his eye. His eyes in response slid to James’ face, slipping in and out of focus as they struggled to stay open, “Hey, we’re not going to hurt you ok. Just rest. We’ll take care of you. I promise.”

James wasn’t sure if he’d gotten through as the man’s eyes finally slipped closed and he let out one final shuddering breath before his chest settled into a slower, more even rhythm.

“So, you going to tell me what that was about?” Clover was standing over them, peering curiously down at the stranger. 

“Story short? I was in the woods, a crow fell out of the sky and crashed into me, I brought it home because it was in pretty bad shape, and then it turned out to be a skin changer.”

“You wouldn’t even have known how to take care of a crow.” 

James sighed, still kneeling on the floor, “I know. I’m actually kind of glad it was a skin changer. Humans I can fix.” 

“Ever the bleeding heart,” Clover playfully nudged James’ shoulder with his hip, “Speaking of bleeding, we should probably get this guy off the floor.” 

“Bedroom?”

“Yeah I think so. It’ll be easier to keep an eye on him that way.” Clover carefully hopped over the lanky legs that blocked the doorway and fixed his hands around a pair of slim ankles. James shifted on the floor and firmly wrapped his hands under the man's shoulders. 

On three they lifted and both almost lost their respective grips as the man's weight, or lack thereof, threw them off balance. 

“Put him on my bed for now,” James jerked his chin over his shoulder. 

“Gotcha. Just curious, why was our bird here trying to fly the coop? It’s not like you were trying to kill him.”

“No but,” James grunted as he and Clover gently laid down the unconscious form on the bed, “he seems battle worn. He kept saying he needed to leave, that he couldn’t stay here. You heard him.” 

Clover’s brow furrowed, “Yeah, I did.”

“He insisted he was fine which,” a vague gesture over his prone, blood caked body, “I think we all know he wouldn’t have made it more than a half mile before he dropped.”

“Mmm,” Clover nodded thoughtfully, “so what now? Clean him up and wait to see if he holds a knife to your throat again when he wakes up?”

“I had it handled.”

Clover chuckled, “Sure you did. For real though, how are we going to keep him from hurting himself or us when he wakes up?”

“I may have a solution.” James crossed the main room and into his workshop. Clover peered at him curiously from the bedroom doorway. It took some digging but finally a faint flash of purple signified what he was looking for. 

Clover’s eyebrows shot up when he saw what James held, “Gravity dust bolas? I didn’t know you had those.”

“They’re useful to have for certain projects and,” he turned to the bed, “for gently persuading guests to stay a while.”

“At least buy the guy dinner first James yeesh.”

“Ha ha why don’t you make yourself useful and go get the first aid kit.”

Clover left the room with a chuckle and James dropped the deactivated bolas on the nightstand. Bolas were always useful, that was why when James had left, he’d taken a few with him. Previously he had mostly used them for securing things when he didn’t trust rope. Including now, in securing their sneaky little friend. James grabbed the knife from where he had placed it on the shelf. He had pulled it out without him even noticing. That took skill, to pull a knife on the former General of the Atlesian Guard.

James tucked that tidbit of information away for later inspection. 

For now, he used the knife the carefully cut away the tattered remains of the man’s shirt to get a look at what he was working with. His legs seemed to be fine, it was the blood caked arm and the way he had held his ribs that had James concerned. And it turns out he was right to be.

All across the man's chest was a criss crossing of cuts and half healed scars. An expansive bruise colored most of the skin on his right side and his ribs were probably broken. The excessive dried blood James chalked up to the large gash that started on the top of his left shoulder and ran down around to end near his inner elbow. It was wrapped crudely in blood-soaked scraps that looked like they hadn’t been changed in a week. Thinking back to the oddly twisted wing, James ginergly picked up the arm and moved it experimentally. The wrist was swollen and made a slight popping sound when James tried to move the hand. He gently placed the arm back down and glanced at the man’s face. He was still out cold. 

“So what’s the diagnosis doc?” Clover appeared at his side holding the box of medical supplies.

“I’d say about three broken ribs on his right side, sprained wrist, that laceration needs to be cleaned and stitched up, and then lots of rest and warm food.”

“Ok,” Clover placed the box on the nightstand and pulled out a roll of bandages, “where do we start?” 

*** 

It took the better part of two hours before James felt satisfied enough to leave the man to rest. They had cleaned and disinfected all the cuts they could find and stitched up and re-bandaged the big one on his arm. There had been a tense moment where it seemed like he would wake up but fortunately he stayed out. 

They’d also braced his wrist best they could and wrapped his ribs. James’ eyes flicked up to the man’s collarbones at the memory. In order to bind his ribs they had needed to have one of them holding him up while the other worked. That was when James had seen the tattoos: a large set of seraph wings that took up most of his back. 

They were mesmerizing. The two largest started just below his shoulder blades and ended near his lower back, the second pair stretched along the backs of his arms, and the third began at the nape of his neck and wrapped around his collarbone to end just above the curves of his pecs. They were so elegant and intricate James could only imagine the time and work and _cost_ that went into them. He hadn’t been able to get a proper look, but each wing seemed to have a slightly different design as well. 

The ones on his collarbones were the only ones he could see right now. The right looked smoother than the one of the left, the feathers akin to flower petals. And the one on the left almost looked like it was alight with fire. And the lighting wasn’t the best, but he could swear that they were tinged with hues of red and yellow respectively. 

James finished wrapping the man’s right wrist with a soft, protective bandaging and picked up the bolas. He knew from experience that these things could rub the skin right off and that was the last thing this guy needed. Using one he secured the man’s good wrist to the bedpost by his head. Then using another as well as more protective wrappings, he fasted his ankles. Nothing too drastic, just enough to make sure he stayed put. 

Content that their guest wasn’t going to cut their throats and run off in the middle of the night or spontaneously start bleeding out, James draped a heavy blanket over him. Without meaning to he reached forward and brushed more of that inky hair away from his face. Battle worn, that was what he called this man. A faint pink outline of a scar glared out from where it broke the stubble on his narrow chin and reached up onto his cheek. There was another scar on the other side of his face; it started above his eyebrow and curved down to end along the curve of his cheekbone. Both were old but both probably told a very interesting story. The story of a fighter. James had seen other faded scars when they had been fixing him up. This fighter it seemed, had seen more than his fair share of strife. 

“What happened to you?” James murmured. He doubted he’d get an answer any time soon. Sighing, he picked up what was left of the medical supplies lying around and placed them neatly back in their box which he stowed under the bed. He cast one last glance at the sleeping skin changer before closing the door quietly behind him. 

Clover was waiting for him with a cup of steaming tea, “How is he?”

“Stable, I think. He doesn’t have a fever which is good, but we should watch and make sure that one doesn’t set in over the next few days.” James took a sip of the tea and let the warmth seep into his core. 

“Let’s sit.” his own mug of tea in hand Clover gestured towards the fireplace. On the far side they had set up what was fondly called the Nook. A space in the floor covered with a fur rug, lots of pillows, and a few blankets. It was just wide enough for them to sit with elbow room between the two of them. The fire felt good as James stretched out and his back cracked against the raised boards behind him. 

“So who’s sleeping where?” Clover kept his voice low as he nursed his mug. 

“Well I would prefer if one of us kept an eye on him tonight.”

“That’d be you. I’ll take the couch.”

James shot Clover a look to which he responded, “Hey look, the first and only time the guy saw me was when I threw him to the floor and held him down. Might not be the best first impression nor the best face to wake to while tied to a bed in a strange house.”

James made a noncommittal noise and sipped his tea. Clover had a point. 

“Alright, I’ll watch him tonight. You sure you’re okay on the couch?”

“Sure! Just don’t mess up my sheets.” Clover nudged James gently and he smiled fondly. 

They spent a while after that discussing their visitor in low tones and watching the fire die down. When James went back into the bedroom, he brought with him a glass of water which he placed on the nightstand next to the man. He still hadn’t stirred. 

James climbed into Clover’s bed, smiling when he breathed in the faint minty smell that always draped itself around his friend.

He spent a while lying on his side, staring through the dark at the rise and fall of the man's chest across the room. There was so much he wanted to ask him. Where had he come from? How did he become a skin changer? Why was he in such a state and still insisting on leaving? Who was Oz? Where had he learned to pull a knife on a highly trained Atlesian general? All these questions and more buzzed around James’ head in a cacophony of curiosity and worry. 

Finally James turned onto his back. Closing his eyes he said a quick prayer to whatever gods were listening to spare this strange, magical man who had crashed into his life. As he slipped away from the coherent stream of consciousness, flashes of glittering red followed him into blankness. 

***

When James woke the next morning, the man hadn’t woken up yet. 

When he came back inside after stepping out to see that more snow had fallen through the night, the man hadn’t woken up. 

When he busied himself tidying up his workshop and finishing his work from the day before, the man hadn’t woken up. 

When Clover rolled off the couch and stoked the fire, the man hadn’t woken up. 

When James set about making breakfast and put an extra serving off to the side, the man hadn’t woken up. 

When Clover showed James how to make a special sedative tea that acted as a painkiller, the man hadn’t woken up. 

In fact it was mid-morning, almost noon, before there was any sign that he stirred. 

James and Clover were sitting at the table; James inspecting the state of some of his finer tools and Clover fingering through and marking down the contents of one of his many tackle boxes. The only sound was the crackle of the fire and the whisper of wind from outside. Then there was a faint groan from behind the closed door of the bedroom. Followed by slight clanking, a thump, and then a not-so-muffled string of curses. 

Clover looked at James from across the table. _You’re up,_ was the silent message he sent, eyes twinkling with thinly veiled amusement. 

“Alright alright, I’m going.”

James grabbed the spare serving of food and the sedative tea from where it was staying warm beside the fire. He took a moment to steel his nerves and headed into the bedroom. 

The man was still lying back on the bed with his head tilted as he inspected the wire that circled his wrist with a look of annoyance. 

“Good morning.” James left the door open behind him. 

The man jerked up and then immediately fell back with a hiss, left hand going to the soft spot on his ribs. 

“Woah hey there, calm down. It’s just me, James remember?” he set the plate of food and the cup down on the nightstand, “How are you feeling?”

“What’s it to you?” the man grumbled, carefully propping himself up against the pillowed headboard and avoiding meeting his gaze. James sat on the bed near his legs, keeping his hands visible.

“Well for starters, I happen to be a human being who cares just a little when a half dead skin changer shows up in the middle of the woods.”

Silence from the other. 

“And I think you could have a very interesting story to tell.”

That got a dry laugh immediately followed by a wince, “Right, ‘interesting’.”

James frowned. He really wasn’t sure where to go from here. Clover had always been the better talker. But James didn’t want to overwhelm the still frail man and shaken man. 

“Would you like some food?” he tried, gesturing to the plate on the nightstand and the glass that stood next to it.

Qrow glanced at the food and then suspiciously at James. 

“It’s not poisoned. Although the tea is a pain killer.”

Eyes locked on James’ face, the man reached over and took the plate onto his lap. James allowed himself a small triumphant smile as he carefully began to eat. 

“You have a name?” he slid off the bed and reached for the medical kit under it. 

Silence again from the man. 

James surfaced and put the box on the bed, just out of reach, “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.”

That got him a look. 

Back by the fireplace, they’d left a rag to soak in a bowl of water. He wrung it out and Clover gave him an inquisitive look as he went back towards the room. James understood the silent question and gave a thumbs up that Clover mirrored with an encouraging smile and then followed with a salute. 

When James stepped back in half the food on the plate had gone and the man had exchanged it for the mug of tea which he was staring into.

“I need to check your bandages.” he approached the bed and was met with a hard glare.

“You’re not going to make this easy are you.”

Another glare; this time over the rim of the mug. Then man let out a small sigh, putting it back and then shifting to be lying down, “You’re going to do it anyways, at least do it while I’m awake.” 

This time James made sure to not let the triumph he felt show. Instead he moved the blanket and with fingers lighter than breath he checked the bandages. His hands ghosted across the man’s ribs, fluttered briefly near his left wrist, and paused to gently peel away the bandages around his shoulder so he could clean that gash there. 

The whole time the man kept his eyes determinedly fixed on the ceiling, his breath coming out in short, even puffs. 

“It’s Qrow.”

James looked up in surprise from where he had been carefully wiping the skin around the cut, “What?” 

“My name.” the man tried again, “It’s Qrow.”

James tried hard not to scoff but he could feel his eyebrows betray him, “Crow?” 

“No, Qrow.”

“Crow.”

“Qrow.”

“Crow?”

“What are you an echo? Qrow.”

“That’s what I’m saying: Crow.”

“No, you’re saying it with a ‘C’, you gotta say it with a ‘Q’. Q-r-o-w.”

“Ohhh, _Qrow..._ Seems a bit on the nose don’t you think?”

The man, _Qrow,_ fixed him with another gothic glare. 

James held up his hands in defeat, “Alright alright, Qrow with a ‘Q’. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

Qrow snorted, “Yeah sure.”

“Well Qrow, as said before I’m James. And then the other man is Clover. He’s going to be helping keep an eye on you as you recover so please don’t be rude.”

Qrow hummed and closed his eyes, the sedatives in the tea starting to take effect as James finished wiping down the still raw stitches and rebandaging the arm. It wasn’t until he stood and began to pack up the box that Qrow spoke again. His voice quieter and more tired sounding. 

“So what am I your prisoner now or something?” 

“No. This isn’t a prison. It’s a cabin in the forest where you are our guest and our patient. And as our patient, I will not let you leave until I deem you fit enough. Understood?”

James pulled out his general voice for that last bit. It had been a while since he’d done it, and the tone felt heavy and familiar against his tongue, even if it came out a little awkwardly. It seemed to do the trick though as Qrow sank down into the mattress, slightly taken aback. 

“Yes sir,” he muttered sarcastically.

“Good. Glad to see we have an understanding.” James stood and cleared away the dishes. As he stepped out of the room Qrow’s voice called after him, slurring slightly, “Can we at least lose the wires?” 

He smiled and without looking back, closed the door behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was literally just “how many injuries is too many” followed by awkwardly trying to figure out how much mobility Qrow would have. The answer is enough but he’d have to twist his wrist and keep his right arm down. Anyways I’ve always imagined long haired Qrow would look kinda like Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle and I couldn’t resist giving him tattoos.  
> Thank you for reading, once again feedback is welcome and I'll see you all next Thursday!!


	3. Hollow Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! I am so sorry this chapter was late! With second semester starting back up the teachers dunked us into the schoolwork without a chance to hold our breath and I had to pick up a bunch of shifts at work so there wasn’t a whole lot of time to write this one. But I still wanted to make sure that I produced the best possible piece for you all to read! And I’ll make doubly sure that next week’s chapter is on time

It was four days before the bolas came off. 

And in those four days Clover grew fond of their little bird. 

On the first day after James had brought him home, Clover went in and apologized for throwing the skin changer (Qrow, James told him, was his name and Clover couldn’t suppress the laugh of surprise at that revelation) onto the floor during their first encounter. He wasn’t really that lucid when Clover confronted him, his eyes half open and hazed over with exhaustion, but he mumbled something along the lines of it being fine and he couldn’t be mad at a disarm that skillful. 

Clover decided then and there that he liked Qrow. He sat on his own bed for a while after that and talked about fishing, just to keep the man company. 

The second day he didn’t wake up at all. When Clover went in to check on him mid-afternoon, he was still sound asleep, mouth hanging open just the slightest and his long black hair fanned out on the pillow around him. It almost looked like a halo, Clover mused. He couldn’t tell if Qrow’s pale demeanor was only accentuated by his dark hair or the other way around. Out of curiosity he held up a stray lock against his pale cheek. It was just complimentary he decided. When he flicked the hair back off to the side his fingers brushed Qrow’s forehead. He was warm, though not worryingly so. Clover pulled the blanket down a bit and left a cool wash rag on his forehead. 

By day three he was running a fever. He was awake and almost as aware as he had been his first day with them. When Clover helped him to sit up and drink some water he even managed to rasp out a remark about Clover’s arms. Clover had smiled and flexed the arm he had around Qrow’s back just for the hell of it and Qrow responded by choking on his water. That had spiraled downhill because the choking led to a coughing fit that could not be good for broken ribs. James eventually came in to see Qrow red-faced and heaving on the bed and Clover caught somewhere between a laugh and a string of apologies. They left the window cracked open overnight and replaced his heavy blanket with a lighter one. 

On day four, James released the bolas so they could take Qrow into James’ workshop which was significantly cooler than the bedroom. They had integrated dust receptacles into the bedroom and the main room so that with fire and ice dust the house could stay better heated and cooled. But that didn’t do too well for a fever.

Since James’ workshop had been a later addition there was no such heating, leaving the room pleasantly chilled in all seasons.

There was a bench in there that James often used to crash after all-nighters. Today they piled blankets on top as a cushion and laid Qrow on with a thin sheet. 

“I’ll stay here with him; you can go do what you need to.” Clover murmured to James just outside the doorway, “I know you want to go into town and with another person in the house we’ll need to sooner or later. Go now, he’s out and he’d be stupid to try his luck.”

“Oh Brothers, get new jokes Clover.”

“Well if it isn’t broken. Pick up some more twine when you’re in town, I’m almost out.”

“Gotcha. I’ll be back by nightfall.”

James left with the quiet click of the door and a rush of winter air. 

Clover hummed and bustled about, gathering what he wanted for the next few hours. His tackle box, his tools, a pillow, he put a kettle on by the fire and then went to set up shop.

A quick mental run through of his inventory confirmed that he had more than enough wooden lures to last him for a while. Especially since James had helped him make some of them. But his supply of flies was running thin. 

It didn’t take long for him to set into the easy rhythm of weaving together the colorful Kingfisher feathers he had collected over the year. There were several families of the bright birds that lived along his river. That’s how it got the name King’s Creek. He found Kingfisher feathers were some of the best to make lures with, he always managed to get a lucky catch with one tethered to his hook. 

Every now and then he would glance up from his work at Qrow. The flush on his cheeks had reduced slightly but he didn’t look deathly pale either. He actually looked, for the first time since James had brought him home, like a living person. 

Clover, like James, honestly couldn’t wait for the man to wake up. Both because he worried for his health and also because he wanted to hear whatever crazy stories that he might have to tell. Clover wanted to save some of his own better stories for conscious conversation, so to compromise he began to talk to him once again about fishing. 

“The time for fly fishing is spring and summer, that’s when spawning season is.” Clover rambled quietly as his fingers worked, “The trout and salmon swim upstream in droves and if you do it right, you can be eating well for weeks. Heh, they say that if you teach a man to fish and he'll eat for a day, but if you show him the migratory patterns of fish, he’ll be set for the season. I took James with me once, tried to show him how to cast properly. All the skills and badges in the world that man has and he can’t land a fish.”

He paused and finished tying off another fly. He’d already made a couple, his water was probably hot. 

“You’re not going to run off or die if I go make myself a cup of tea, will you?”

Silence. 

“You’re right, I’ll make you a cup too. Rude of me not to offer.”

It only took a few minutes to pour the tea but when he went to place one of the cups on the table near Qrow’s head he saw that his eyes were open and blinking away the haze he probably felt from the fever. 

“Oh, good you’re awake. Tea?” 

Qrow groaned and sluggishly wiped a hand down his face. Stopped, looked at his wrist, and turned his bleary eyes towards Clover, “Whatsa…”

“You have a fever. We moved you to where it’s cooler. How do you feel?”

“Mmph.” he scrubbed his hands against his face again. 

“Well Qrow, I know James told you who I was but I feel I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself properly. My name is Clover.”

“Charmed I’m sure.” he said, a little more coherent.

“More than you think.”

“What?” 

“I asked if you would like some tea.”

Qrow only seemed to just notice the steaming cup that sat by his head, “Oh uh, yeah, sure. It’s not gonna knock me out like last time, right? I’m tired of sleeping.”

“Well,” Clover moved to help him sit up, “sleeping is good for a healing body. You probably need all the rest you can get and we may or may not have encouraged that with your last cup. But no, this is just regular tea. I made some for myself if you don’t trust your cup.”

Qrow swung his legs so his bare feet were resting on the workshop’s cool floor and leaned his back against the wall, “No it’s fine. I think it wouldn’t matter whose cup I drank out of; just give me the mug you’re least attached to.”

Clover’s eyebrow quirked at the odd request but he passed over a cup without pursuing the matter, “Would you like some food too? It’s been a while since you’ve had anything real to eat.” 

“I don’t wanna put you out at all...”

“Nonsense, James is in town today picking up more supplies as we speak. We have more than enough here to share so don’t for one second think that keeping you fed is going to be a problem for us.” 

Qrow looked down at his tea for a long, long moment, “Why are you doing this?”

“Hmm?” Clover looked up from securing the feathery margins of his lure that he had returned to. 

“Why are you helping me?”

Clover just stared for a second, “Why wouldn’t we?”

Qrow gave him a strange look, “Because I’m a stranger? Because I attacked your friend? Because I’m an asshole and not your problem?”

Clover could only stare before letting out a loud laugh. Qrow jolted, “What?! You think that’s funny? Gods you people are weird.”

“No no, it’s just, you don’t think very highly of yourself, do you?”

Qrow’s head dropped back to look into his drink and his hair shifted, obscuring his eyes. 

“It’s not a criticism!” Clover backtracked, “Just an observation. You say that you’re a stranger like every stranger is someone to be afraid of, rather than another person. That’s very telling. I don’t imagine you got those injuries just from travelling. And skin changers aren’t exactly Faunus; they’re hard to come by, rare, and only born from magic granted to them if I remember my lore correctly.” 

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” 

“Well, you want to know what I think?”

“Not really no.”

“Too bad. _I_ think, that you’re a warrior. A fighter. Someone who has a purpose greater than themselves.” Clover paused to see if he would input anything. When he didn’t he pressed on, “You’ve been fighting for a long time from the looks of it. And experience like that doesn’t come without a few scars, both physical and mental. So I can imagine that waking up in a strange house after crashing the way you did, well.” Clover sighed, “I don’t blame you for how you reacted I guess is what I’m trying to say. Or for being as ‘asshole’, as you put it.”

Qrow looked up and his hair remained hanging over his face half covering it in an inky curtain. Clover wondered vaguely if that was annoying at all. “You don’t have much of a filter, has anyone ever told you that?”

That got another laugh out of Clover, “I prefer the term ‘earnest’.”

Qrow scoffed, “Earnest. A bleeding heart is a bleeding heart. If you leave that shit open you’re just asking to get stabbed.”

“Yes but the same can be said for a closed heart. You stay closed off, refuse to trust others, don’t let yourself grow, and you don’t need to get stabbed. You’ll just wither away.”

“ _Tch._ You sound just li-” Qrow cut himself off. A tired, lost look came over his face and he dropped his head once again. There was a quiet clinking as he began to tap one of the black band rings on his finger against the mug. Clover decided not to pursue it. 

Instead he veered the subject away, “Well regardless, I don’t imagine James or myself will be letting you go with those injuries anytime soon. So you better get used to having a couple bleeding hearts around. After all that is why you’re still alive and not, you know, frozen to death.” 

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Clover couldn’t tell if that was sarcasm or not. 

“No problem! Now back to the original question; would you like something to eat? Do you feel like you can stomach anything right now more importantly.”

“Uh yeah sure, I could eat I guess.” as if on cue a loud gurgling punctuated the end of his nonchalant statement and had him glaring at the floor with a murderous look in his eyes and a red on his ears to match. 

Clover chuckled, “Hey no judgement here, you haven’t eaten in days. Just give me a few minutes to whip something up.” he offered his hand to Qrow, who stared at it like something that oozed. 

“Well aren’t you coming? I imagine you’re probably pretty stiff too and I’m not exactly supposed to let you out of my sight. If you feel well enough to walk and your fever’s dropped at all I see no reason to leave you in here alone.”

“Oh, ok.” Qrow seemed at a bit of a loss for words. Clover didn’t blame him. 

Instead he helped him up and kept a steady arm extended should Qrow need the support. 

“You build this place yourself?” Qrow asked once he had gotten situated at the table in the kitchen.

“More or less.” Clover flitted around gathering what he wanted for soup, “We had some help from a few friends in regard to the main cabin and the bedrooms and James built the workshop by himself.” 

“Color me impressed Lucky Charm.”

The sudden nickname made Clover turn, “Lucky Charm? Where’d that come from?” 

“Well,” Qrow leaned on his elbows with a smirk, “for all the jokes about _my_ name being obvious, you carry a number of good luck lures on your person Clover. And I can’t help but notice that nothing particularly bad has happened in the time that I’ve been there.”

“Why would something bad happen just because you’re here?” Clover was genuinely curious.

Qrow looked like he was about to say something but the words died before they could find their sound, “Bad things just tend to follow me ‘s all.” was all he ended up saying. 

“Well you shouldn’t have to worry about that while you’re here.” 

After that Clover wasted no time in whipping up some food. It was nothing too special, something warm that would hopefully fill Qrow’s belly and speed his trek down the road to recovery. 

They ate in silence and Clover took the moment to contemplate the ragged figure across from him. 

“We need to do something about your clothes.” Clover decided once Qrow had finished eating, “Or to be more specific, your lack thereof.”

Qrow looked down at himself and grimaced. Aside from his torn and battered pants the only thing he was really wearing was bandages and his jewelry. 

“Yeah maybe,” he grumbled. 

“I’ll see if I can find something. Be right back.” Clover rushed off into the bedroom and began digging around in both his and James’ bureaus. This guy was small, he knew that much. And he weighed even less than he looked. So this would call for some improvisation. After a minute or two he had what he hoped would work. 

“Ok!” back in the main room Qrow hadn’t really moved from the table which made Clover feel a little better, “these should work. But before you try them on do you want to get cleaned up first? You’re still pretty grimy from the road, and we didn’t really think it was right to try bathing you so we wanted to wait until you were awake. There’s a bathhouse built into the back of the house if you’re interested.”

“Are you sure? What if I try to escape?”

“If you can escape from a room that only has one door, a sealed skylight, and a few vents, then you deserve to not have us catch you. But somehow I doubt that you will. Anyways, here’s your clothes, everything you should need is already in there, just please don’t slip and re-break your ribs.”

Qrow accepted the folded-up clothes and Clover helped him shuffle to the door on the back wall. 

“Holler if you need anything.” the door was shut in his face. 

The bathhouse was easy enough to figure out so Clover knew Qrow would be fine. He probably wouldn’t try to fill the actual tub because of his injuries, but they had a sink in there and enough towels that he could at least wipe himself down. 

In the meanwhile Clover busied himself with tidying up whatever loose ends had been left around in the last few days. He was in the middle of bringing in firewood from outside when the bath house door opened. 

Qrow’s skin was dewy and flushed. The pair of Clover’s pants that he had given him were cinched up around his waist and James’ smallest shirt hung loosely around his frame. Overall he looked pretty cleaned up; except for…

“I need you to help me with my hair.”

“Pardon?” Clover continued stacking firewood.

“My hair, I can’t wash it.” he gestured to the bandages still wrapped around his midsection, “Ribs.”

“Oh right. That would be just a little bit difficult wouldn’t it. Come here then.” Clover gestured towards the pile of blankets and pillows that was the Nook.

Qrow shrugged and carefully lowered himself while Clover brushed past him into the bathhouse. He grabbed a couple towels and since the water was still hot, filled a basin which he took back out with him. 

“Ok just lean your head back and relax.”

Qrow grumbled something Clover couldn’t quite make and chose not to dwell on. But nonetheless he obliged and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Clover dropped down on the floor and swung his legs so that one was one each side of Qrow with his knees barely brushing the other’s shoulders. 

Then with a careful hand, he wrung out the towels and wrapped them around Qrow’s feathery locks. Trying his best to be as predictable with his movements as he could, he rubbed them between his hands, working out the built-up grime and grease. Every now and then he rewet one and ran down from Qrow’s scalp to the tips. 

The whole time Qrow remained incredibly still, breathing deep and even. Clover couldn’t tell if he was relaxed, or just putting up a front. 

“Do you want me to cut this?” he asked gently to break the tension. 

Qrow let out a huff and opened his eyes, peering back and up at Clover, “Yeah sorry we’re not at the point in our relationship yet where I let you near my neck with anything sharp.”

“Just thought I’d offer.” 

Qrow closed his eyes again and Clover took it as a sign that the conversation was over. A few more minutes and he was satisfied with his work. He finished by gently drying Qrow’s hair. When he released it from the fluffy clutches of the towel it cascaded down to pool on the floor like ink. 

“Thanks. It’s nice to have clean hair again.” Qrow murmured without looking back. He seemed tired. 

“No problem.” 

When it became apparent that neither had anything left to say, Clover stepped back and finished tidying up. Outside was dark and facets of frost crissed and crossed over the windows. 

Clover opened the front door to light the lamps on the porch. Here and there a snowflake fell. It would probably get worse later on. 

“Well if you’re going to make your grand escape, hold off until after tonight. It looks like a storm is-” Clover cut his statement short when he saw that Qrow had slumped down in the nook. His eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. James’ shirt hung loose around his collar and his hair was dry enough that it had returned to its state of falling all over his face and shoulders. He looked more peaceful than he had in all the time he’d been at the cabin. 

Clover smiled in spite of himself. 

James came home soon after, walking in just as quietly as he had when he’d left and gently dropping a large basket, the contents of which were covered by a checkered cloth, near the doorway. Clover could tell it was snowing harder by the glittering spots on his jacket that melted as they came into the warmth. He waved from where he was sitting in an armchair across the room and then held his finger to his lips, pointing to where Qrow was nestled into the Nook. 

James smiled and tugged off his boots. He padded across the room on thick socks to where Clover sat and crouched down next to him, “How’d it go?”

“Good. I think he’ll be a little more manageable after tonight.”

James breathed a sigh of relief, “That’s good to hear. It’ll make helping him heal a lot easier.”

“Yeah,” Clover let his gaze trace over the shadow of Qrow’s flickering outline, “You were right I think. About him being battle worn. He seems so wary.”

“Well, as long as he’s here we’ll keep him safe.” James put a hand on Clover’s knee, “We’ll just have to make sure that he knows that.”

“Hmm.” Clover paused thoughtfully, “Did you get the twine like I asked?”

James responded by pulling a large silvery spool out of his pocket. 

“Perfect. Thank you James.” Clover beamed at his friend who gave a small smile in return, “You don’t know how much I appreciate you.”

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around. Anyways I’m going to hit the sack. Should we move him into the bedroom?” 

“I suppose. Try not to wake him up though. Gods knows he probably needs the sleep.”

Despite being an absolute unit of a man, James managed to pick Qrow up out of the Nook and carry him to be laid in his bed without waking him up. 

As he pulled a few blankets on top of Qrow he voiced a concern that Clover may or not have been thinking about a bit too frequently, “He’s so light, you’d think despite how lean he is he’d still weigh more than a sack of potatoes.”

“Yeah, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that his bones were hollow.”

The two shared a look before coming to the same realization. James couldn’t keep down the snicker that came with it, “Now that you mention it, that actually makes a lot of sense.”

“We’ll have to ask him when he wakes up if that’s actually the reason.”

“Yes I suppose we will, but for now let’s let him sleep. And we should do the same.”

“Agreed. Good night James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! If I don't post next week's chapter on time I give you full permission to come to my house and beat me with a rusty shovel.


	4. Ink Stains

Qrow would never _never_ admit it to anyone, but when he had woken up under the concerned gaze of two very large _very_ attractive men, he had thought he’d either died and gone to the afterlife or was in the process of dying and just experiencing a fever dream. Either way it had been too good to be true at the time. And honestly? He felt he deserved an award for what he’d been through. 

In the past when he’d been injured he’d just swallowed his medicine hard and cleaned himself up with a rag between his teeth. If it was really bad he might’ve gone to Oz or a close friend. But that wasn’t an option anymore. He’d honestly thought he was a goner after that last fight. Months of constant searching and being on the run, never staying in one place for more than a night, no contact with anyone, it had left him more drained than he realized. 

When he’d crashed, wings battered and body broken, cold on all sides and no way out, he’d truly thought he was done for. There was so much he had lost. So much he had left to do but he wasn’t sure if he could do it. His will however, and the fight in him would not be extinguished so easily. Thoughts of those who needed him, who loved him, who fought for him and who waited for him to come home, those thoughts forced him to open his eyes and shed his feathers. 

And now he was here, in the cabin of two kind strangers who owed him nothing but seemed content on giving him whatever he needed. Qrow wasn’t sure he could ever truly wrap his head around such unconditional kindness nor could he hope to ever repay these men. At the moment though he couldn’t spare a second thought to that. Instead he was focused on surviving the endless attention and care he was being given. 

Qrow was used to a very specific way of life. One that didn’t involve human connections or physical contact or trust and intimacy. His was a life of distance. He had people he loved and to keep them safe he couldn’t be near them. It hurt but it was just his reality. He proved his love to them by fighting onwards. By making sure he always came home, if only for a little while. 

So one can only imagine how flustered he was now. Sitting on the edge of the fireplace with Clover at his back, hands musing with the bandages that were wrapped there, and James in front of him, gently going over his healing stitches with a medicinal salve. 

_This is fine._ Qrow kept his eyes on the bricks beneath his feet and his focus on his breathing. _Just don’t move, don’t think about how close they are, don’t think about how their hands-_

He abruptly cut off that line of thought before he could think about how imperative it was that he _not_ think about how warm and soft their hands were. Except for James’ right hand, which was metal. But that wasn’t any of his business. What _was_ his business was the way that Clover's hands suddenly and very deliberately began to trace the tattoos that he knew flowed across his back.

“Getting distracted there Lucky Charm?” thank the Brothers his voice didn’t waver. 

“Sorry I just, these are unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Of course they are. My artist is a one of a kind.”

“Why did you get them? I mean, tattoos like these don’t come without meaning behind them, or without cost and a _lot_ of time.”

James decided to take that moment to throw in his two cents, “I must admit I am curious about that myself.” He looked up at Qrow from beneath and heavy brow, question twinkling in his eyes. 

Qrow debated opening up to these two for a moment. They were complete strangers after all. But they had also taken him into their home and helped him. They didn’t seem to harbor any ill intent… Ah what the hell, they wouldn’t tell. But they would bug him relentlessly until he told them. That he knew. And he also knew it wasn’t worth the hassle. So he relented. 

“Each one is someone I’ve loved. Someone, who helps me to fly, gives me purpose.” he absently turned his hands over and traced the calluses on his palm, “Sounds damn ridiculous when you say it out loud.”

“No no,” Clover’s breath was warm on his neck as he leaned in closer. His voice tickled the back of Qrow’s ear and he suppressed a shiver, “I think it’s beautiful.”

The bandages around his ribs fell away, “How does that feel?”

James pulled back so that Qrow could sit up straight and stretch. He didn’t get very far before his ribs groaned in protest and a sharp stabbing pain had him hunched over again with a gasp.

“Hmm, no good huh? That’s alright, another few weeks and you’ll be right as rain. Arms?” 

Qrow placed his hands on his knees so that his arms were raised enough for Clover to work. James handed Clover a fresh roll of bandages. But before he started rewrapping the bandages, Qrow felt a few soft fingers trailing along the edge of his tattoos. This time he couldn’t suppress the shiver that radiated from where his heart squeezed in his chest. 

“Who are they?” Clover’s voice was almost reverent, “That you would mark yourself like this for them.”

Qrow’s mind automatically went to mentally trace the six wings that adorned his back. He knew their shape and color by heart. One was dark and sharp like a sword, jagged edges and long, slender feathers. One was elegant and green, with two gears resting in the curve of the scapular and broken feathers interrupting the otherwise soft curves. One was delicate and small, silver feathers tinged with red and akin to the shape of flower petals, while the one next to it was strong and angled, colored gold and brown and alight with fire. The last two were mirrors of the ones preceding them, although with their own spin. One was black that faded to be red; feathers like petals but also feather like thorns. 

And the last one was strong but also slender, it was golden and brown and burned brighter than its mirror. 

Qrow swallowed hard and gathered his thoughts, making sure he knew what to say before he actually spoke, “The bottom left is my sister, Raven. She has the right wing. We got them back when it was just us, we were always strongest together.”

“And the right?” Clover’s fingers moved to trace what Qrow knew was the gears that were inked into the curve of the next wing. 

“Oz.” he whispered, trying not to let the hurt show in his voice. He felt heat prick at the backs of his eyes and quickly pushed forward, “And the two above that are Summer and Taiyang. My teammates, the first people who meant something to me aside from Rae.”

“And these last two?” Clover had both his thumbs rubbing circles at the nape of Qrow’s neck before running his whole hands across his upper back. 

Qrow struggled to keep coherent thought and squeezed his eyes shut, “M-my nieces. Ruby and Yang. Tai and Summer’s kids. Yang is Raven’s but, well, it’s complicated. They’re the greatest though. Bright girls, both take after their mothers and, thank the Brothers, their father as well. Heh, dunno what Tai would do if he had a mini Raven and Summer running around on top of the adult ones.”

Clover hands trailed back down his back in stuttering touches before finally drawing back and reaching for the bandages. A part of Qrow sighed in relief but another part of him ached at the loss of warmth. 

“That’s incredible Qrow. Arms.” 

“Oh sorry.” Qrow repositioned his arms and this time Clover actually followed through and began rewrapping the bandages. 

“So, you said that your sister has a daughter; how about you? Anyone waiting at home?” 

“There was someone. But not anymore.” Qrow closed his eyes and breathed out, doing his best to quell the surge of memories that came with that question, “I honestly don’t have much of a home; never have. I’m on the road too much. I guess you could say that home is more of people than a place for me.”

Clover snickered. 

“What? I’m being genuine or whatever here you could at least pretend to take me seriously. This isn’t shit I tell to just anyone you know.”

“No it’s not that,” Clover paused for a moment to give Qrow a reassuring pat, “I just find it funny that you call _us_ bleeding hearts and then come out with a story like that. I, for one, am touched. James?” 

James stood from where he had finished with Qrow’s arm and smiled in such a soft, gentle way that Qrow couldn’t stop his heart from skipping just a bit, “I concur. Qrow, are you sure you don’t want an invite to the bleeding hearts club? We’re taking applications.”

“Bite me.” 

James chuckled and moved away and a tug around Qrow’s midsection signalled that Clover had also finished. 

“Alright you’re all bandaged up again. Does everything feel ok?”

Qrow twisted experimentally, “Yep. Feels fine. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Qrow reached for the discarded shirt by his side and carefully pulled it over his head. He moved to stand up but two hands on his shoulders stopped him. He craned his neck to look back and up at Clover who was staring down at him with a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his bright, bright eyes that put Qrow just a little bit on edge but also made him want to... Actually, he really wasn’t sure what that other feeling was. It didn’t matter. What did matter was the fact that Clover was looking just a little too pleased with himself. 

“Clover, what are you doing?” 

“Hey you said my name! It sounds nice coming from you, don’t you think James?” 

There was a noncommittal noise from the kitchen. 

“You didn’t answer my question Lucky Charm. What are you doing?” 

“Your hair. It’s bugging me and I’m sure that it bugs you too. It’s always in your face. And since you won’t let me cut it for you and you probably can’t put it up by yourself,” Clover held up one hand expectantly and James appeared to place a hairbrush in it. 

Qrow sighed, “Will there be no stopping you in this endeavor?”

“Nope.” 

“Fine.” Qrow slumped back down and admitted defeat, “do what you must.”

There was a noise that Qrow was going to pretend did not sound like a high-five and instead closed his eyes. Not moments later the gentle swish and tug of the brush began. Clover started combing at the bottom. Qrow knew that was always where you wanted to start. Years of helping Raven and Yang with their unruly mops of hair had taught him that. Start at the bottom and work the knots out from there. Clover also seemed privy to this knowledge as he slowly worked his way from the tips up to Qrow’s scalp. His head tingled warmly at the gentle scratching of the brush’s teeth. Slowly he let himself relax. Clover continued to brush his hair for far longer than was necessary but Qrow didn’t feel like calling him out. 

After a while the brush stopped and was replaced by Clover’s fingers carefully combing the hair into place. Qrow absently wondered how one man could be so well versed when it came to working with the hands. He felt the hair being pulled away from his ears and a few more tugs. 

“Done! Now we can see your pretty face properly.” 

Qrow’s eyes flew open and he tried to sputter out an answer but all that came was broken syllables and a faint burning on the back of his neck. So instead he did his best to glare up at the man behind him who had _no right_ to be smiling like that. 

“Why don’t you relax here by the fire hm? I’m going to help James with dinner.” he disappeared from Qrow’s line of sight as though he hadn’t just brought Qrow’s ability to think to a screeching halt.

_Pretty._ The word swirled around his gut stirring up all sorts of weird feelings. There was no way. No way that this was happening. Not when those two so clearly already _had_ something and Qrow was just a passing stranger. _Pretty._ No way. _We’ll take care of you._ There was a tickle on Qrow’s cheek and he reached up to tuck the stray behind his ear. In spite of the uncertainty that roiled within him, he smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorted chapter this week!  
> For those of you wondering here are the bird inspirations for the different characters:
> 
> Raven - this one's pretty obvious  
> Ozpin - Snowy Owl but like, make it green  
> Summer - Dove which feels a little too easy but also if the shoe fits and all that  
> Taiyang - Golden Eagle  
> Ruby - Harpy Eagle only small because it has the feather shapes that most naturally fit the imagery I was going for  
> Yang - Red-Tailed Hawk 
> 
> And yes Clover and James do have their own birds! Clover is pretty obvious but you'll have to wait for James'. As always thank you for reading and for your support and good luck to all you who like me will be watching Chapter 12 this weekend!! Also there won't be a new chapter next week because I want to try and plan the rest of the story out a little more concretely before proceeding. Thank you for understanding.


	5. A Lesson in Patience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again this a quick psa regarding this fic:  
> I know what happened in canon was really devastating for a lot of people and there’s been a lot of controversy regarding CRWBY’s decision and everything that happened in episode 12. That being said, this will not affect the production of this story. I personally cried over Clover because I really liked him; but I can also see where CRWBY was coming from in terms of the build up and the plot so I won’t condemn them. Fairgamers/Luckbirds took a heavy hit this finale but that’s why fanfiction and aus exist right? So I’ll continue to do my best to deliver that good good Clover content in the stead of the show.

It started with a nightmare. James awoke to Clover furiously shaking his shoulder.   
“Clover wha-” his breath hitched when he saw the raw, open look of worry and fear on Clover’s face. In the low light light cast by the last embers of the fire his bright eyes shone as though he were about to cry. James knew Clover better than that but still. He had never seen such a look on his friend in all the days they’d known each other.   
“It’s Qrow,” his voice was hoarse and cracking, “something’s wrong and I don’t know what to do.”  
James threw off his blanket and bolted up, “What happened?”   
“I don’t know,” Clover’s eyes flicked towards the door, “he was fine and then, he just bolted up and fell out the bed. He’s, it’s hard to explain but he’s not responding to me.”

Clover didn’t need to say anything else. James was up and moving towards the bedroom before he even finished the sentence. When he peered into the darkness that met him there, the scene he saw was not as bad as he was expecting but somehow still worse than what he had imagined, it chilled his blood to ice.   
Qrow’s bed, James’ bed, was a mess of sheets and blankets that had been thrown everywhere. He didn’t see Qrow at first until a quiet sound drew his eyes towards the corner of the room beneath the window. There he was, curled into a ball so tight there was no way it didn’t hurt. His face was hidden in his arms, his hands clutched his shirt so tight his knuckles were white, his whole body shook like he was having a seizure. 

Clover was at James’ side, his presence like a spark of warmth that thawed James’ heart from where it had frozen, “He’s been like this since he woke up. He won’t say anything and I don’t want to touch him in case, well...”   
James nodded, he remembered Qrow’s reflexes, and how they were only sharpened when he got jumpy. 

“Clover, grab a pillow from the bed.” James’ instincts took over. There was never any time to hesitate when in the field. And dealing with people who were having a crisis was an integral skill he had learned early on. Qrow was having a panic attack, that much he knew. He just had to get him down from whatever high vantage of panic he had flown himself to. 

Clover knew what James was doing when he saw him kneel down with his hands out. James knew that Clover trusted him. Clover knew that James trusted him also in return. They were secure in each other’s faith. So when James asked, Clover didn’t question, just quietly followed through with what James needed him to do. James was reminded once again what a blessing of a friend he had been given, and a heavy weight wormed its way into his chest. There it twisted and squeezed him core in a way that was just short of painful. He ignored it. Right now he needed to focus on the person in crisis; Qrow. 

“Qrow, if you can hear me, I need you to breathe.” James was reminded very vividly of when he had brought Qrow home only a couple weeks before. Qrow’s breath didn’t change its urgent, panicked pace but his head shifted slightly from its position. 

“Qrow, it’s James. And Clover. We’re here, and you’re here, in our cabin. Do you remember? You’re safe.”   
Clover appeared briefly to hand James a pillow before stepping back, out of James’ peripheral but still in Qrow’s sight should he need the visual confirmation. James shifted closer to Qrow, making sure to keep enough distance that he didn’t feel crowded or cornered. 

With his metal hand, he reached out and placed it on Qrow’s knee. Just like he thought Qrow immediately jolted, releasing the death drip he had on himself to instead grab at James’ wrist. His eyes were wild and bloodshot. James held out the pillow when Qrow didn’t let go of his arm. It took a moment for the action to compute but Qrow stiffly released his grip and with shaking hands took the pillow instead and crushed it in his arms. 

“Qrow,” the question no one wanted to ask hung heavy in the air. 

“Bad dream.” Qrow didn’t look at either of them. His eyes were blank as he stared at the floor, “sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I just need to know that you’re okay.” 

“I-” Qrow seemed like he was about to respond but a sudden fire came into his gaze and thrust him back into full panic mode, “Ruby! I have to go, she’s going to find her. And Yang. Summer I forgot I’m so sorry.” Qrow made to stand up but he must’ve done something when he fell out of the bed because his hands went to his sides and the pillow dropped.   
This was looking too much like when James first brought Qrow home. He didn’t like it. The panic, the way he couldn’t seem to get his breath under control, the sharp, tense lines that adrenaline and fear drew across his still injured body, the helpless feeling like James couldn’t do anything to help the man he had grown so fond of in such a short time. 

“James, I need to go to them. My girls, they’re going to get hurt. I need to go to them. I need to leave, they’re getting hurt James!” Qrow’s voice raised in volume until he was shouting in desperation. 

“Qrow calm down, I’m sure they’re fine you just had a nightmare. Please you have to breathe.” 

Qrow tried. Brothers bless him he tried. He took several slow, deep breaths before the rhythm was broken by a fresh round of gasps and chokes. James gave up on distance. He couldn’t sit here and watch this man fall apart in front of him. Instead he moved forward and gently pulled Qrow into his lap. He held the shaking man as close and tightly as he dared. As though he could prevent him from breaking into pieces by holding him together. The sound of shuffling in the room and Clover was next to James, gently running his hand over Qrow’s head. That seemed to help, his breathing finally began to even out. James couldn’t say how long they sat there for. Qrow going through the highs and lows of coming down out of panic. Clover gently stroking his hair and murmuring placations from time to time. And James doing what he could to give Qrow some semblance of stability. Something to hold onto. 

“You're okay Qrow please just rest. Your family is fine, they’re waiting for you to come home. But they can wait a little longer, you need to heal. Rest now, they’ll be alright, we’ve got you.” James didn’t let go until Qrow had gone still in his arms and his gasps petered off into the shallow breaths of unconsciousness.

***

Whether Qrow had forgotten the night’s event due to his questionable state of consciousness during the ordeal, or he simply just didn’t wish to acknowledge it out of embarrassment, he said nothing the following morning when he stumbled groggily into the kitchen. 

James and Clover both hadn’t been quite able to get back to sleep the night before so they had both been up and talking for a while. No one spoke anything more than snippets of polite dialogue and small talk until breakfast was over. James stood to clear away the dishes and Qrow made a move to help but Clover’s hand on his elbow stopped him.

“Qrow, we need to get you some warmer clothes. Can’t have you going out in a shirt three sizes too big.” 

Qrow blinked owlishly at him, “What? You’re letting me out?”

“Not quite. James and I thought it might speed your recovery if you got some fresh air. So we’re going fishing.” 

“Fishing…”

“Yes! The river isn’t completely frozen over and it’s the clearest outside that it’s been in a while so I figured some good old fashioned ice fishing would help get the cabin out of your lungs and be a good way to get you moving again.”

“This isn’t voluntary, is it.”

“Nope! Now come on, I’ve been working on hemming some things so they’ll fit you better.”

As Clover dragged Qrow off to the bedroom, James couldn’t help but admire his friend’s sharp judgement and quick thinking. Taking Qrow fishing was the best thing they could do for him right now. They were both certain that he was probably as restless as a man could be without going mad, what with being stuck inside all the time. And this way they could avoid town and unwanted questions. Or attention.   
Fishing was relaxing and a good test of skill, Clover always preached. James wasn’t sure he agreed. It seemed more a matter of luck to him. But he had to admit that in this scenario it was a good distraction. 

James finished cleaning up and went to round up the fishing gear Clover had told him to. It was a nice day out, all things considered. The sky was only partly cloudy and the air, though crisp, did not bite at the skin like it usually did in this dead time of winter. No sooner had he finished getting everything prepped when Clover and Qrow emerged from the bedroom, fully geared up and ready to go. Clover had fit Qrow into one of his older jackets from when he had been a cadet. All the Atlas symbols had been removed from it but the coloration made it fairly obvious where it had come from. The white stood out strangely in comparison to Qrow’s dark hair but the red served to nicely contrast his eyes. It looked good. Really good. 

“Hey Jimmy you didn’t tell me you and Lucky Boy over here used to be bootlickers.” 

And the moment was gone. 

James sighed long and deep, “Not quite. I was a general. General of the Elite Atlesian Guard as it would be.”

Qrow’s eyebrows shot up and a grin that could only be described as voracious spread across his face, “Woah hey you’re boots must’ve been blindingly immaculate then Jim. What about you Lucky? You hiding any shiny soles anywhere?” 

Clover only looked mildly irritated at Qrow’s blatant discourteous attitude towards the military, “I was the Genera-, James’ second in command. And leader of the derivative Ace Operative team actually.”

Qrow let out a low whistle, “Damn, I probably shouldn’t be making fun of you two then.”

“Probably not.”

“Sorry,” Qrow tucked some of his hair behind his ear, “I’ve just always had a bit of a problem with authority.”

“You? No.” 

Qrow snickered at Clover’s dry comeback and James inwardly sighed with relief. If it meant Qrow was smiling, he could stand a few jabs at his old career. Clover, however, did not seem to feel the same way. 

“Look all I’m saying is, James was amazing as a General and he was highly respected in Atlas. You shouldn’t treat that so flippantly.”

“Alright alright, I didn’t mean to cause a fuss. It’s just like I said, I’ve never really had much waver space for authority figures. No one I know really does.”

Clover crossed his arms and cocked out his hip, “Hanging out with troublemakers are we Qrow?”

Qrow mimicked his stance with twice the sass if half the weight behind it, “What’s it to you boy scout? And besides, what does that say about you two?”  
James couldn’t take this anymore, “Alright that’s enough. Qrow, stop provoking Clover. Clover, stop leading him on.”

“I’m not-”

“He wasn’t-”

“No!” James held up his hand, “please for Brother’s sake stop. I do not want to be hearing this all day.” 

“Of course, sorry James.” James smiled at his friend. 

Qrow however was not so easily sedated, “Bootlicker.” he muttered one last time. 

James knew that if his ribs hadn’t already been broken Clover would have elbowed him. 

After that it was only a few loose ends and they were out the door. Qrow stepped off the porch first, looking up at the sky. For a second James thought he was going to change and fly away. His worries were quelled when Qrow instead let out a great sigh and watched the delicate swirl of moisture as it dissipated against the sky and white. 

“Having fun?” James stepped down next to him, shouldering most of the gear they needed. 

“Not yet, watch this.” Qrow exhaled again into his own cupped hands. Only this time, rather than dispersing, it stayed swirling in the shape of a globe in his hands. Qrow’s brow furrowed in concentration and James watched in growing awe as the melodic whorls twisted themselves into a recognizable silhouette of a bird. The silvery corvid shook its airy head and let out a silent caw. Then without a sound it took flight, going into the sky by only a few feet before disappearing. 

“You can do magic?” Clover sounded about as dumb struck as James felt. 

Qrow shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders over against the sudden attention, “Only a little. Oz, the one who made me like I am, gave me some of their magic back when they made me a Skin Changer. Said it wasn’t fair for someone with a semblance like mine to have nothing else.” 

“You can give magic to people? That’s a thing?” James had never heard of anything like that before. He knew that in this world, the world that the Brothers had made from their own blood and bones, every person was born with an aura. And that aura could be manifested as either the ability to wield magic, or a semblance. But he had never heard of one having the ability to do both. 

“It was an Oz thing. And anyways, it’s not like it’s a whole lot of magic. Just enough for parlor tricks like that.”

“Still though, that’s amazing Qrow.” Clover gestured and they carried the conversation into the winter wastes. 

“Yeah well you shoulda seen what else Oz could do. They were amazing.” Qrow words were laden with restraint and he kept his shoulders hunched as they walked. 

“This Oz person, it sounds like you were close?” James knew he was trodding on unstable ground here, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. 

“Yeah, we were. But Ozpin’s gone now. And I need to finish what they started. For all of us.” 

“Sounds pretty serious.”

“Yep. It’s a big job.”

“Big jobs shouldn’t be done alone you know.”

Qrow shrugged, “Eh it’s fine. I knew what I was signing up for. I just wish it wasn’t taking so long for these damned ribs to heal.”

“Well you’re going to have to wait. Broken ribs don’t heal overnight and you’re not leaving until we’re certain that you’re not going to step out the door and collapse in the cold.”

“Yeah yeah I’ve heard this speech before. I just,” Qrow looked up at the sky again and it took a great deal on James’ part not to dwell on how pretty he looked; eyes shining and hair falling back to frame his impressive jawline, “I can’t help it. I have people who need me. They’re waiting for me.” 

“Yes, they are. But your body is waiting to heal. It’ll just be a couple more weeks.”

“You can’t guarantee that.” 

“No, but I can guarantee you’ll be better off healing fully before jumping back into action and getting beaten up all over again.”

“You sound just like Summer.” 

“That’s a good thing right?”

“It means you sound like a brat.”

“I’m sorry who’s the brat here?” Clover chose that moment to jump back into the conversation.

“Your old boss is who. Seriously I dunno how you ever took orders from him.”

James groaned as the two began their strange playful, but also slightly malicious, bickering from before. It carried with them all the way to the river until Clover stopped to show Qrow how to properly attach a lure and hook and thread his line. 

James watched from his seat on a fallen log as Clover showed Qrow how to properly cast. He really didn’t understand fishing. Qrow seemed to be enjoying himself though, in spite of the fact that that was his third cast straight into the branches of a tree on the far bank. 

“No, you’re using too much arm. You need more wrist.” Clover positioned himself to grab Qrow’s wrist with his hand. Acting as a guide, he pulled Qrow’s arm back and rather than casting like he was throwing a stone, he helped him flick his wrist so that the lure landed, not in the scraggly hold of another tree, but with a gentle plip in the middle of the slow moving river. 

“Ok, now what?” 

“Now,” Clover cast his own line out, “we wait.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep!”

“What do you do while you wait?”

“Sometimes a bird will fly by. There’s a family of Kingfishers up the creek a ways but they probably won’t be out on a day like today.”

“So you sit here, holding a stick, watching the lure, and watching birds, until a fish bites.”

“That about sums it up yeah.”

“Admit it Clover, you’re the only man in a hundred-mile radius who gets this excited about fishing!” James couldn’t help but chuckle at the look of betrayal his remark brought to Clover’s face. 

“You both just don’t get it. It’s not the act of waiting that matters, it’s knowing what you’re waiting for.”

James watched a light smile alight on his friend's face. 

“Fish are tricky. They aren’t always around when you need them to be. They migrate with the seasons, some years they’re scarcer than others, and sometimes you don’t know if you’re going to see any fish at all, much less catch one. But sooner or later, you’re going to catch that fish you’ve been waiting for. It’s just a matter of patience, and knowing that what you’re waiting for will make all the time you spent worth it.” 

“Huh.” Qrow ran his fingers absently over his rings, “You know Lucky Charm, I think I kinda get it.”

“Qrow,” 

“Yeah?”

“Eyes on the lure. You got one.”

“What? Oh shit!” 

James watched, laughing as Qrow fumbled with the line and Clover had to drop his own pole to help. It took the better part of ten minutes, with Clover gently coaching his movements, but he finally landed the fish. 

In that moment, James felt he could have stayed forever. Watching Clover carefully pull the hook out of the fish’s mouth, a line of concentration drawn across his features and a small smile playing at his lips. And Qrow, bouncing excitedly on his heels with an unguarded look of pure excitement and elation.   
He wasn’t sure he could place the feeling it gave him. Contentment, warmth, fondness, admiration, love, but none of those seemed quite right. 

In his heart of hearts he knew it was something more.   
Home.   
Something that whispered of a future where he didn’t feel an empty cavern in his chest every time a new day dawned.   
Home.   
Where he didn’t feel like he had work left to do. Day in and day out, always something unfinished. Something he left undone, but couldn’t go back, didn’t know what he’d left.

It felt like Home. 

He wasn’t sure he could place the feeling and wasn’t sure he wanted to. But for right now he just wanted to sit and watch these two people he cared about celebrate over their fish. But winter days weren’t meant to last forever. A small dot caught James’ eye and he watched the snowflake drift down to land in his open metal palm. 

“Hey guys, I think you have time for one more, it’s starting to snow.” even as he said it, a few more flakes appeared midair before floating down in a weightless dance. 

“Ok James, one more cast and then we’ll go home.” Clover was already helping Qrow retie his lure and hook. 

Home. 

James looked up at the sky, his thoughts as weightless and scattered as the snow that fell around him. 

Home.   
Chapter Management

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have silly head cannon that Qrow would be terrible at fishing because you'd need to use your whole arm to wield a scythe whereas with fishing it's all in the wrist.  
> Anyways a second psa: updates are going to be a little less frequent on account of school and I’ve been swamped with college stuff. If you guys want, I have a tumblr that I am only sort of active on but that might change now that it is hiatus time. It's blacfiachdubh. Feel free to shoot me a message or an ask and until next time, Happy Hiatus and thank you for reading!!


	6. A New Light

It had been just shy of a month since Qrow had been found when the true dead of winter locked the land in its icy grip. Qrow sat near one of the windows in the main cabin, gazing anxiously into the thrashing curtains of snow outside. On his lap, _The Art of Casting,_ leather-bound edition and annotated by yours truly, lay open and forgotten. Clover eyed him curiously from his own seat by the fire, taking note of his bouncing leg and twitching fingers. James was out. He’d left for town early in the morning to get supplies. 

Clover had kept himself busy for a while with whatever had been neglected over the past few weeks. But it didn’t take long before the cabin was spotless and he was left with nothing to do. As much as he loved this cabin and adored James, he couldn’t deny that his restless tendencies were a detriment at times like this. He wished he could just leave; go out and _do_ something. But he couldn’t. He was stuck. A fishing line in a tree. Unable to do what he needed. 

Clover’s eyes mindlessly traced the streaks of soot that stained the ceiling above the fire. He wondered sometimes, why James had given it up. His title, his status, his friends, his home, his _life._ After his accident, it had been months before the armor had been forged, enchanted, and then grafted onto his body. After that was a long recovery period. Days melted into weeks and weeks into months of relearning how to live. Redefining the relationship they had with each other and the future. A future that now stretched very long, and very uncertain in front of them. Like a winding river, tumultuous and full of rapids; daring them to make one wrong move and flip the unsteady boat they found themselves drifting in. 

A quiet cough drew Clover’s attention back to the here and now. To the cabin he had built to live in with his best friend. To the life he had traded to take care of the one person who mattered most. To the restlessness that he felt deep within his bones that he feared he could never truly quell. To the strange man who’d rocked the boat, but hadn’t caused them to capsize. And to the fact that maybe Clover should cut it back with the fishing metaphors. 

Qrow had been quiet lately. Ever since the night he’d had the nightmare he spent a lot of time just, sitting. Staring out the window with his fingers twitching and his leg bouncing. Much like he was now.

“You don’t have to worry about him you know.” Clover offered. 

“Hmm?” Qrow looked up, startled from whatever world he had been contemplating. 

“James. He won’t be much longer. He always comes home, no matter the weather. Just trust him a bit. Give him time.”

“Oh I wasn’t, uh, I mean.” Qrow sighed and slumped down in his chair, gaze returning to search the storm outside, “Okay you got me. It’s just, he’s been gone all day. And the weather ‘s only getting worse.” 

“Well, the walk into town is the better part of two hours. And I wouldn’t worry too much about the weather. James is a forge of a man with the amount of heat he radiates. It’ll take more than a little wind and ice to stop him.”

Qrow only hummed in response, still not looking away from the window.

Clover felt there was nothing more he could do to mollify Qrow’s anxiety so he let him be. To his relief however, there was no need for him to dwell on Qrow’s worrisome tendencies, as not more than ten minutes later there came the heavy stomping of snow boots on the porch. 

The door opened with an uncharacteristic **BANG** and a strong gust of icy air and snow invaded the cabin. James hurried inside, covered head to foot in white. With a grunt he shouldered the door shut. He brushed some snow from his coat before realizing the futility of such an act and settled for dropping the large, equally snow covered, pack on his back. There was a heavy scarf wrapped around his face that muffled the words he spoke. 

“James, scarf-speak; not fluent, remember?” Clover got up and went over to help him with whatever he had brought back. 

James got the hint and unwrapped the scarf and took off his matching hat. His normally neat and combed over hair arranged itself into wet spikes, showing off the streaks of grey that ran from his temples. It was a good look. 

“Sorry. I said that the town is getting ready for the Winter Festival.”

“The Winter Festival?” Qrow had suddenly adopted his usual air of aloofness. He lounged strangely nonchalant as though he had not just been worrying holes into his stomach a short while before. 

“Yeah,” James shrugged off his massive coat and shook off some of the snow that had caked onto the collar, “every winter around this time, the town hosts a festival. Merchants and vendors come from all over. There’s dancing, bonfires, drinking, and everyone has a story to tell. It’s one of the biggest social events of the year.”

“Hmm. Sounds like something we had back where I’m from.”

“Really? Then I’m sure you won’t mind Clover and myself taking you along this year.”

That broke Qrow’s front, “What? You’re serious? You mean like go into town with you guys?”

“I’m all for it.” Clover piped up, “I see no reason not to.”

“Well I mean,” Qrow fiddled with his rings, an act Clover was quickly learning the meaning of, “won’t people in town be a little weirded out by you guys just suddenly, living with another guy out of the blue?”

“It’s not out of the blue,” James continued undressing, unbalanced on one foot as he unlaced one of his boots, “you’ve been with us for weeks. And the people in town aren’t stupid; they’ve noticed I’m picking up more than I usually do and making more trips. So I decided to forego any rumors that might spread and just said you’re an old friend from Atlas.”

“Not a bootlicker kind of friend I hope.” Qrow stood and made deft work of the knot James’ cold numbed fingers couldn’t seem to undo. 

“I figured you wouldn’t appreciate it so no, you’re an old friend who we just knew from our time in Atlas, jobs irrelevant.”

“Oh, well, thanks James.” Qrow looked up at James with an uncharacteristic look of fondness that he usually seemed to reserve for talking about his nieces. James seemed to like it Clover noted, his ears and cheeks were already tinged red from cold, but now the back of his neck was darkening into a shade that matched. 

“Yeah, no problem.” James pulled back and coughed awkwardly into his hand. “Anyways, the festival is the day after tomorrow. If the storm lets up, I’m going out again tomorrow to bring wood into town for the fires. Until then, Qrow,”

Qrow, having previously retreated from James’ side to help Clover sort through what was in the pack, looked up, “Uh, yeah?”

“Check the brown parcel with the red ribbon in there. That’s for you.”

“For me?” Qrow’s eyes narrowed with suspicion and he dipped his hand back in the bag. The parcel James was referring to was indeed wrapped in red ribbon and had a small ink stamp in one of the corners that Clover recognized as belonging to Ein’s Haberdashery. 

James looked very pleased with himself as Qrow peeled back the brown paper and examined the soft fabrics that spilled over his hands, “We couldn’t just have you keep running around in Clover’s and my old clothes, now could we? Any ‘old friend’ of the General’s should be well dressed. Besides you would have needed them sooner or later.” 

“Yeah,” Qrow’s eyes darted down to focus on the floor, “right.” 

“Well? Aren’t you going to try them on?” Clover prodded. 

“M-maybe later. Heh. I’m not usually very good with the whole formal dress thing.”

“On your own time then.”

The rest of the evening was spent preparing. Qrow took a bath while Clover helped James in the workshop figuring out what would be best for him to bring to town. The snow continued on until late at night when they had all settled in. Clover in the bedroom and James on the couch. He lay awake for a while, turning over thoughts in his head as they drifted by. One kept coming back to him. The thought of Qrow leaving. 

As he gradually began to drift himself, he wondered, did he really even want him to go?

*******

The next day the snow had stopped and, always a man of his word, James Ironwood was off to town again. This time laden with a large sled of logs. 

And again that left just Qrow and Clover. Clover decided to take a quick bath to get ready for the Winter Festival. When he emerged, skin still steaming as he walked into the bedroom, he caught Qrow in the middle of trying on the clothes James had gotten him. 

He only had the crimson blouse half buttoned and stopped short when he saw Clover standing in the doorway. Dripping wet. And in only a towel. Clover and James were both used to each other walking around the house in next to nothing. But Clover forgot to factor Qrow in on this occasion. Most of the time he had been here Clover had either bathed before he was awake or stayed in the bathhouse until he was dry enough to get dressed. Same with James. 

“Mind if I join you?” Clover tried his best to play off his slip up and leaned against the doorway nonthreateningly. 

“Uhhh sure? You don’t want me to leave while you get changed?” Qrow maintained very careful eye contact while he spoke. 

“No that’s fine. We’re both adults, although you can face the window if you’re not comfortable.”

Qrow squinted at him for a moment as if trying to decipher something dubious from his words. After an only slightly awkward moment he just shrugged and turned to face the window; focused once again on his buttons. 

Clover smirked and pushed off the doorframe. Qrow had laid out the clothes James had gotten for him on his bed and Clover snuck a look as he walked by to his side of the room. It was a nice ensemble. But then, James had always been a man of good taste. Aside from the crimson blouse Qrow had on now there was a warm looking double-sided vest with one side being a velvety black and the other a warm grey. After that was a black fitted tailcoat jacket with red accents along the seams and the high turned collar. The buttons were all shiny and silver and there was some lighter thread detailing along the forearms of the sleeves that looked vaguely botanical. And finally the pièce de résistance; a long wool coat in the same shade of grey as the vest. On the inside the coat was a rich maroon color that Clover was positive would complement Qrow’s eyes wonderfully. 

There had also been a pair of fitted travel pants in the parcel that Qrow was already wearing. A quick glance over Clover’s shoulder and he confirmed that they fit perfectly. 

Clover contemplated what he himself would wear. For now he just threw on something comfortable and warm. As he finished dressing, so did Qrow. He hadn’t put on the whole outfit, just loosely laced up the vest over the blouse. 

“Looks good,” he remarked, strolling back over to Qrow’s side of the room. 

“Hmm. Honestly I’m just happy to be in clean clothes that fit again.”

“Yeah. Maybe when we go to town tomorrow we can pick you up some spares? Y’know, for what you leave.”

Qrow’s brow furrowed and he gazed out the window, “I dunno. I usually travel light. Not a lot of room on the road for fancy dress clothes and spares. Besides I don’t want to put you and James out any more than I already have.”

“Qrow we’ve talked about this; you’re not putting us out at all. We’re happy to help you and we have more than enough resources to do so. You really have to stop doing this whole,” he gestured frustratedly at Qrow, “ _thing_ that you do. Really. You are worth all the effort we put into helping you and then some.” 

Qrow sighed, “Can we change the subject please?”

“I suppose.”

“So what is this Winter Festival all about really? I mean I get it’s a festival that happens in Winter. I’m also going to hazard to guess that it celebrates surviving the coldest, darkest season and enjoying the warmth of others or some sentimental bullshit like that too right?”

Clover chuckled at Qrow’s blunt and rather pragmatic way of looking things, “Pretty much. Around here though folks tend to throw quite the party. Backwoods place like this the festivals are the only time when things ever seem to happen.”

“Party huh?”

“Yep.” Clover waved his hands in emphasis as they moved to sit by the hearth, “Big bonfires like James said. And our town, Tinne, is the biggest one for miles so lots of people come in from other, smaller towns and stay for a few days. Vendors too. The Winter Festival is the best time to buy something special. We have jewelers, dust merchants, weapons dealers, blacksmiths, engravers, you name it they’ve got a booth somewhere at the Winter Festival.”

“Sounds pretty big.” 

“It’s like you said. The winters get harsh up here and people want to be able to celebrate surviving and thriving in spite of it.” 

“Well, since it’s such a special occasion, Clover I suggest you sharpen those scissors.”

“What?” Clover turned, confused. It took a moment of watching Qrow run his fingers through his hair with a strange expression on his face before it clicked, “Wait, seriously?”

Qrow shrugged, now twisting his hair with both hands and looking intently into the low fire, “Better now than later. Besides, if I keep letting it grow I might end up looking like Raven and, heh, lemme tell ya that is _not_ a look I want to replicate. Woman looks like she has a dead animal tied to her head. And Yang inherited her mother’s hair, I’ve seen what it does to Tai. Poor man, that house probably goes through five hairbrushes a month.” 

Clover chuckled, “You know, you’re really making me want to meet this family of yours. They sound like a fun bunch.”

“They are. You’d like Tai I think.” 

“Good man?”

“Boy scout.”

Clover made a noise and swatted Qrow’s arm, “Hey now, I don’t think that’s fair for me or him.”

“Maybe not, but it’s true. Seriously though, Tai is a good guy. Now come on, are we gonna do this or what?” 

Clover didn’t bother trying to hide his delighted grin, “Wouldn’t miss my chance. Go sit over there.” he pointed to the Nook and then ran off to find his scissors. Qrow looked just a little uncertain when he came back, still grinning and holding a damp towel, a comb, and a nice shiny pair of snippers. 

“Ok you’re nearing levels of weird in terms of being excited to cut my hair.”

Clover shrugged and took his position behind Qrow, beginning by combing out any knots and wetting his hair down with the towel, “Can you really blame me? This mess has been bugging me since the day James brought you home. It would never fly in the military I’ll tell you that.”

“Hmm you’re making me rethink cutting it with that statement.” Qrow closed his eyes as Clover continued his ministrations. 

“Alright I’m gonna start cutting so, y’know, sit still.” 

“Hmmm.”

Carefully Clover began to trim off the edges of Qrow’s long hair. Inches of dead ends and months on the road fell away in inky locks that curled slightly when they hit the floorboards. Clover worked carefully. And when the hair was only just long enough to brush past Qrow’s ears did he think to ask, “How short did you want this?”

Qrow reached a hand up and ran his fingers through the shortened strands, “Shorter than this. But longer than what you and James have.” 

Clover nodded. He could handle that, “Okay. Just stay still.”

After that they settled back into a comfortable silence with only the _shhhk shkk shhhk_ of the scissors and the quiet crackle of the fire to keep their respective thoughts company. As Clover began to trim the underside of Qrow’s hair, working a faint undercut, he noticed for the first time just how grey Qrow’s hair was. Even more so than James’. It took Clover off guard. This man couldn’t be older than him by more than a handful of years. Probably still younger than James. It made him wonder. Just what had Qrow endured. 

Rather than let his musings get the best of him Clover redirected his focus back to the work at hand. It was almost done he would say. It wasn’t as short as he kept his and certainly not as styled as James kept his but it felt just about right for what Qrow had requested. 

“Stay here for a second. I’ll get a mirror.”

Clover was back in the second and handed the mirror down to Qrow who admired his fresh cut in the mirror.

“Looks good. Thank you, Clover.” Qrow stood and handed the mirror back with a smile and for the first time Clover got to survey his work. While he wasn’t personally a man high on giving himself praise, he’d done a damn fine job with this particular assignment. 

He had seen Qrow with his hair up on occasion but that did nothing compared to how it looked now. Without the dark locks covering his features Qrow’s jawline now showed with a vengeance. Clover could see his earrings now too. Eight or nine shiny black studs in his right ear going from his lobe to his helix and one tarnished feather charm dangling from his left. His complexion seemed darker too and even Qrow’s scars had taken on a more silvery shade as opposed to the stark white the contrast of the hair had cast them into. Qrow reached up and shook out his hair to settle it into what Clover assumed he normally had it as. 

Some of it swished over his forehead and around his eyes and the rest formed itself into feather-like spikes. It looked good. Really good. 

And never a man to shirk away from giving another man a well-deserved compliment, Clover eloquently let Qrow know, “Yeah yeah, it looks uh, great. I like it a lot better short. The grey kinda suits you.”

He reflexively reached his hand up to run his fingers through it the way he would sometimes do to James. 

“You think so?” Qrow surprisingly didn’t stop him, and instead raised his own hand to run through the grey. 

“Yeah, it doesn’t age you. It looks rather regal if I’m being honest.” Clover dropped his hand and began awkwardly cleaning up. 

“Regal huh? My nieces usually just say I look old.” 

“How old are your nieces again? I don’t think you’ve ever said.” 

“Uhhh,” Qrow silently mouthed numbers and flicked his fingers, “Ruby would probably be sixteen now? Maybe seventeen. And Yang is probably nineteen by now.”

“You, don’t know?” 

Qrow started fiddling with his rings again, “It’s uh, it’s been awhile since I’ve actually been home to see my family. I’m not sure if they even know I’m alive.”

This conversation was turning unbearably depressing. Clover desperately looked for a way out. Just his luck, there was a banging on the door. 

“Is that James? He shouldn’t be back for another few hours.” he made to move to see who it was. 

Qrow’s arm shot out and grabbed Clover’s wrist, “Don’t answer it,” his eyes had gone wide and Clover was sure that if he had been a bird his feathers would have been fluffed up and ruffled in apparent alarm. 

“Qrow what?” 

“Don’t answer it, if it’s not James don’t answer it.”

Clover hung back, stepping between the door and Qrow. There was another knock this time followed by an oily voice that made Clover’s sin crawl.

“Hellooooooo? Anybody home??” 

Silently Clover made a motion towards the door to the bathhouse. There was a trapdoor directly next to it that led to a small root cellar that served as their means of warming water. It was nearly invisible to any who didn’t know it was there. Qrow got the hint and inched backwards, staying as low as his ribs would allow. 

Clover said a silent prayer when he noticed how low the fire had gotten while he and Qrow had been talking. It was barely more than a whisper of smoke. The curtains were closed against the glare of the snow. To anyone outside, it would look like the house was empty. 

Before Qrow could even reach for the trap door the voice sounded off again, “Oh well, I guess there’s noooobody here. Better luck next time.”

There was a cold, mirthful laugh as whoever it was walked away. Qrow and Clover stayed pressed close together near the floor for nearly an hour before either dared to move.

“I don’t think whoever that was is coming back. And I definitely didn’t like the sound of him.” Clover stood and cracked his back, “Qrow? You alright?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah,” Only at the sound of his name did Qrow tear his gaze away from the door, “Sorry. I think, I don’t know if that was him but that might’ve been an old flame of mine.”

“Uh huh,” Clover peeled back one of the curtains slightly and peered out into the snowy woods. He didn’t see any sign of anyone, “and by ‘old flame’ I’m assuming you don’t mean the warmth of friendship.”

“Burning hatred would be more accurate in this case.”

“Should we be worried?” Clover picked up where he left off cleaning up”

“Probably. I really shouldn’t stay here, that was too clo-”

“Qrow we’ve had this conversation; you are not leaving until you are completely healed. James and I aren’t complete pushovers you know. If we need to we can fight.”

Qrow’s shoulders slumped and he scrubbed his hands down his face, “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you getting wrapped up in my bullshit.”

“Wrapped up? Sir who do you think you are living with right now? I’m sure James won’t mind me speaking for him when I say we are both so beyond ‘wrapped up in’, we are invested in your bullshit. We’ve put time and energy and investment into your bullshit. Dare I even say given it a roof to shelter under for the past month.”

“Okay okay I get it. I hope you don’t mind me saying that I’ll be happy to get moving again though. Seriously, I don’t know how you and James can stand living in this cabin in the middle of nowhere.”

“We have each other,” Clover’s response was honest, although perhaps not as genuine as he would have liked it. 

It dawned on him then, for the first time, that Qrow would be leaving soon. Clover thought to the voice he’d heard outside the door to his home and shuddered. Qrow would leave, and there was a very strong chance that he would not be coming back. Either to his family, or to James and Clover. 

The thought was enough to make Clover stop dead in his tracks. Qrow. Gone. He couldn’t let that happen. 

***

The day of the Winter Festival dawned and Clover rose with it. The morning was spent preparing. James loaded a bag with things they would need for the walk to town, Clover cooked and packed food, and Qrow helped lash together some more wood on the sled. Around mid-afternoon they all dressed and set out, hoping to beat the sunset and the onset of grey in the sky. 

They were a good-looking trio, Clover mused. James had on a fitted, high collar jacket that was padded and a shade of dark navy blue. Over that was his imposing General’s Coat. The regular version was something to behold but the Winter version was a real eye catcher. Long and white it fanned out behind him elegantly and complimented his broad shoulders. Accents of red, blue, and gold showed the stature James used to carry in Atlas. 

And Clover had been right; in his full outfit Qrow cleaned up to be quite the looker. The angles of his body that had looked too sharp and lean in the oversized clothes he’d been wearing were now more refined and, Clover realized, toned. He had slicked back his hair completely and looked regal. All he needed was a circlet and Clover might’ve mistaken him for a prince. 

Clover himself had not fallen short of his companions' good looks. He had on his old ceremonial blouse and a green vest. Over that was black fitted coat. It didn’t trail like the other two’s but looked elegant in its abruptness. Simple, but effective. He’d never been one much for flare and pomp. 

The walk to town was easygoing and pleasant. In the back of his mind Clover couldn’t forget the stranger who had come to their door the day before. The fact that he might still be skulking out in the woods somewhere. For the duration of the walk he checked over his shoulder and kept tabs on their six. Only when they have made it to town did he allow himself to breathe a sigh of relief. 

The town of Tinne was all abuzz when they walked onto its streets. There were children running around grasping onto sticky candies and pies. Vendors were everywhere; haggling and shouting and selling and setting up. And more were coming into town by the minute. James took Clover and Qrow around to drop off their sled and the wood. People recognized them and waved or shouted greetings. None asked about Qrow thankfully. Clover wasn’t sure he wanted the whole town knowing who he was. Not after yesterday. 

That deep into winter dusk lasted for only a few sparse minutes. Then the real party started. The fires were lit and crowds took to the streets. It was truly a celebration of warmth and light. They spent some time going around and enjoying the atmosphere. Clover saw James stop and buy something from a vendor that he then subtly slipped into his pocket. What a sap. Qrow really only seemed interested in the stands with weapons. He’d spend a minute examining the wares on display and then would shake his head and walk away with a sigh. 

“Do you wanna grab some food?” James asked after they’d killed several hours among the midst of the festival. 

“Sure, any place in mind?” Clover had been nibbling on some booth treats here and there but admittedly craved something a little more filling. 

James guided them towards one of the biggest Taverns in town. Inside was packed. Clover wavered half the town had crammed itself in there. 

The food was good though and so was the drink. They were in there for maybe a little over an hour when Clover noticed something was wrong. 

It hadn’t passed under Clover’s notice. The way that Qrow always declined a cup of wine when it was offered. Or the moments when his eyes would linger for just a little too long on the cabinet where they kept their alcohol. At first he thought it was just a preference. But now… 

Qrow’s fingers shook and his leg bounced restlessly under the table as all around them the energy of celebration thrummed. People were cheering, singing, dancing, a band played merry tunes in the corner and somewhere on the second floor the sounds of an animated game of cards reached Clover’s ears. Waiters danced between customers holding trays of food, dirty dishes, flagons so full that froth spilled over the rims. And almost everyone was holding some sort of drink. Everyone except Qrow. 

His leg continued to bounce and his fingers traced a knot in the wood of the table. His eyes remained studiously fixed on one of the buttons of James’ coat but had a weird unfocused look. Somewhere several glasses fell from a table and shattered. Qrow flinched. 

Under the table Clover nudged James’ flesh leg and gave him a look. He picked it up pretty quick. Leave it to James to never miss a beat. Even if sometimes he could be totally oblivious to something right in front of him. For right now though he got the hint and, in as subtle a way a man of his stature could, he abandoned his own tankard and stood. 

Qrow’s gaze followed him up, “Going somewhere?”

“Yes actually,” James pulled on his coat and indicated the other two should do the same, “It’s a bit too lively in here for my tastes. Let’s go outside to the bonfires. It’s a little easier on the senses if you know what I mean.”

As if to prove his point a table just next to their creaked and broke apart under the weight of the fellow who was standing atop it, regaling his friends with an only slightly slurred tale of how he slayed a terrifying monster. Qrow looked undeservedly guilty at the sight, “Yeah. That sounds, better.”

As it so happened the change in atmosphere from inside to outside was a welcome relief to Clover too. The cool air felt good against his hot skin and the party, while no less evident, was far more welcoming out here. 

The cacophony of the tavern behind them was muffled and as a new atmosphere settled around their shoulders. The chaotic whimsy of before had calmed down as people found their way into inns, taverns, and friend’s houses. Though the celebration was not less for it. The excited calls of children mixed with the shouts of vendors. Groups of people huddled around the bonfires, talking and laughing and nursing steaming drinks. A little ways down the street in the town square there was another band playing. Real dance music this time, not just drinking songs. This music was steady and even and flowed like ribbons through the air. It enticed Clover. And never a man to ignore the exhortations of his soul, he looped one arm through Qrow’s elbow and set off towards it. 

Qrow stumbled for a second, taken off guard by this very sudden and direct course but quickly setting into pace beside Clover. James tucked his hands into his pockets and strolled along on Qrow’s other side. He looked up at the night sky with a small smile on his face. A gentle snow had started while they’d been inside and the large flakes were catching on his thick eyelashes. It was kinda cute. 

“So um,” Qrow’s voice shifted Clover’s attention from the beautiful man he lived with to the beautiful man who was currently not trying to pull away from having their arms looped together, “where are we going? Still not exactly from around here.” 

“We’re going dancing.” Clover declared. 

“Dancing?”

“Yes. It’s a thing people do when they’re celebrating something that involves moving in rhythm to music.”

“I know what dancing is Lucky Charm. I just don’t understand why we’re doing it?” 

“Because I want to.” Clover shrugged and winked. 

“Alright well you two have fun with that,” Qrow tried to pull his arm free from Clover’s vice but the ex-military operative was not having it. 

“Oh no you don’t. Qrow, you are going to come dance with myself and James and you are going to enjoy yourself.” 

Qrow blinked up at him, surprised at his directness, “I really don’t think that’s a good idea Clover. Honestly. I’m not trying to be a buzzkill but you really don’t want me dancing with you.”

“How about you let me decide that for myself?” By now they had reached the town square. The band Clover heard playing was sitting beneath the large, bare oak tree that marked the exact center of town. Around them on the icy cobblestones entwined couples spun and drifted in their own imitations of snowflakes. As Clover watched two young women, not really dancing, just holding each other and slowly spinning, slipped and fell. Their laughter was palpable and a couple twirling by with the experience of years stopped and helped them up. He could see why Qrow was worried but still.

Using the arm he already had looped through the other’s he spun Qrow around and grabbed his other hand, “Just trust me ok? I won’t let you fall.” 

Qrow looked like he was about to start spewing objections but Clover’s feet moved before his mouth could. He spun around once to get a feel for the ice and winked at James over Qrow’s shoulder. James’ laugh followed him as he spun again. 

The ice on the cobblestones was thin and manageable but still a slippery trap if one dared drop their concentration for even a moment. Qrow was very much having difficulty concentrating and his feet slid and slipped this way and that. Clover moved one of the hands he had holding Qrow’s to rest on his waist, steadying him. 

“I’d say buy me dinner first but I think we’re a little past that,” Qrow muttered, looking intendedly down at his feet. 

Clover laughed but didn’t respond. By the end of the song Qrow had more or less gotten the hang of the steps for simple square Clover spun them in. With his brow no longer furrowed in concentration Qrow looked properly relaxed. There was a small smile gracing his face and Clover couldn’t help but beam. Together they twirled, around and around. Occasionally Qrow would slip and the hand around his waist would right him once again. 

A couple more songs played and finished before Qrow spoke again, “Shouldn’t you be dancing with James, Clover? I mean I get it, he doesn’t seem like much of a party guy but I still think you should be dancing with him since you’re, y’know, so close.”

Clover sighed and a familiar thread tugged at his heart. He cast a brief glance over to Ironwood who was standing where they’d left him, only now with a steaming cup in one hand. He looked solemn as ever.

“Clover?”

“HuWOOAH!” In his brief lapse of concentration Clover slipped. His traitorous foot flew out from under him. In the split second he had he waited for the cold pavement to hit him. It never came. His fall had been halted by a strong slender arm around _his_ waist. Qrow had caught him and now held him up. The stayed like that for a moment, hands intertwined and arms around each other. 

Then Clover found his footing again, mentally and physically, and righted himself, “Thanks for the save Qrow. Close one.”

Qrow stepped back and rubbed his head sheepishly, “Yeah, no problem. Hey listen, I really do enjoy, all this,” he gestured towards the other dancers, “but uh I think I’d like to take a break. Why don’t you take James for a spin?”

“I suppose that’s fair.” Clover offered his hand, worried Qrow wouldn’t take it. Qrow did, and the two of them carefully stepped their way over to where James stood by one of the fires. 

“Saw your fall. Clover you’re losing your touch.” he joked when the two joined him. 

“Tch hardly. And how about yourself Ironwood? Think you can still handle the formalities, the poise and posture of a dance?” 

“I see the game you’re playing here Clover.”

“Yeah and?”

“And you win again. Qrow, here have a drink. It’s Honeymilk from one of the vendors.” he bent down and picked up one of two more steaming cups that sat near his feet, awkwardly shoving it into Qrow’s hands. 

“Oh also, dancing makes me hot, hold this please.” 

Clover’s eyebrows shot up as James put down his own drink and shed his massive winter coat, draping it over Qrow’s slender shoulders. He could swear he saw the man stagger for a moment under the weight. Then he turned and offered his arm to Clover. 

“Always such a gentleman.” Clover teased and off they went. Qrow, clearly confused, waved half-heartedly and turned his attention to the soothing drink he’d been handed. 

Unlike Qrow James was an excellent dancer, whether on ice or in a ballroom. Between the two of them settling into a rhythm was easy. Familiar. Enough so that they were able to hold a conversation. 

“So, Qrow.” Clover started. 

“What about him?” James seemed nonchalant enough. 

“You were right. He is going to be leaving soon. I think we both know that. Another couple weeks and it’ll be just you and me again.”

“Hmm,” James’ brow furrowed and they both looked over to Qrow. He was still standing by the fire, drowning in James’ coat and licking a small milk moustache off his face. “I suppose we both knew he’d be leaving eventually.”

That wasn’t the answer Clover was looking for, “Yes. But this doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“Clover,” James peered at him quizzically under heavy brows, “what are you getting at?”

“I’m saying,” Clover spun James to avoid his look, “we should go with him.”

“What?”

“Listen,” at that moment the song changed and became faster, more party like, “we both know he’s on some sort of mission. And you saw firsthand the condition he showed up in. It’s too dangerous for him to continue alone, he should take us!” 

“Clover that’s insane,” James took the lead this time, dipping Clover deep until he was practically bent backwards, “he’d never agree to it!”

“Why not?” they were spinning faster now, “We’re both in fighting shape, he clearly likes us both, there’s no reason for us not to go.”

“Speak for yourself. I am retired.”

“Yeah and you’re doing a shit job at it James! I’m saying this as your closest friend and roommate. You _need_ to get out of that house. Go somewhere, be a part of something again. Both of us do.”

“Is that how you feel? You said you were fine going into retirement with me. Clover do you want to leave that badly?”

Oh no, James sounded hurt. Clover quickly backtracked, “No I’m not saying that. James I would do anything for you, you’re my closest friend and I trust you with my life. I don’t regret for a moment choosing to stay out here with you. But we both know that retirement doesn’t suit us!”

James did one of his signature James Sighs, “You’re not wrong. Still though, Clover I don’t know if I can fight with this body.”

“Well there’s only one way to find out. I’m serious! I’m not trying to leave you or run away with some mysterious magical man here; I’m talking about you taking back your life and _us_ doing something that matters again.”

James seemed to be relenting, “We’d have to make sure it was okay with Qrow.”

“He’ll say yes.”

“How do you know?”

“Let’s just say I’m feeling lucky.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

Another sigh, followed by a warm smile, “No, I don’t.”

The song ended and there was a brief interlude as some of the musicians took drinks or exchanged words with passing friends. Clover and James continued to dance. 

“So when should we ask him?”

James shrugged, “He’ll be fully healed in about two weeks. I say we ask him within the next few days. That’ll give us time to prepare depending on what his answer is.”

“His answer is gonna be yes.”

“Right right, you and your luck Clover. Honestly, if I were half as lucky as you I wouldn’t be the half a man I am.”

Clover laughed, “I’m not as lucky as you think, James. Sometimes luck doesn’t get you everything.”

Before James could inquire into that line of thought the music started up again. 

“The Winter Reel!” Clover excitedly stopped the rhythm he and James had going, “this is a three-person song! Qrow!” 

Qrow looked up, “What?”

“Come on! This song needs three people!”

“What’s the logic in that?” 

Clover rolled his eyes, “Because it’s fun and it allows for different partners, it’s a community dance now come here!”

“Fine!” Qrow put down his drink and, still wearing James’ jacket, made his way to them. Dancing a reel was always fun. Traditionally it was as Clover said, couples were meant to allow a third in or to split and become someone’s else’s third. Then the three could link arms and twirl, spin, kick up their feet and allow the joy of the song to dictate how they moved. With every switch of the lyrics they were supposed to switch partners again. But Clover selfishly made sure it was just the three of them for the whole song. 

Passing dancers looking for groups recognized him and James, saw his wink, and with a wave moved on. 

“This is ridiculous!” Qrow laughed, slipping again as he switched between James and Clover and they moved in turn around him.

The song didn’t last nearly long enough, Clover thought, as the magical moments cast in firelight and snow came to a draw with the last notes of the song. In those fleeting last few chords though he saw something he had neglected to see before. Qrow and James. Two of the most somber men he had ever known, smiling and dancing with each other. With him. And in those last few moments he felt a strange yawning cavern open in his chest, of the possibility of everything that could be, but wasn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really set myself up with that “Will continue to update regularly” line huh. Anyways I’m back now. This chapter turned out waaaay longer than I had originally intended it to and right in the middle of it quarantine and everything happened and I’m afraid my schedule got so sporadic. I could never find time to sit down and reopen my drafts. That being said not a day went by without me wanting to delv back into this fic. And I finally have! My schedule has evened out around school so while updates won’t be frequent, they will actually happen with some regularity. 
> 
> Also thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos even when I didn’t update. Getting those notifications in my inbox when I definitely didn’t deserve them was the final push for me to get back into the swing. You really have no idea how much it means to me to always receive such kind and positive feedback from you all.


	7. A Change in the Timetable

Somehow he knew that this was going to happen. Although he hadn’t wanted to admit it. Ever since the night of the Winter Festival there had been a growing suspicion in the back of Qrow’s mind. And that suspicion had doubled whenever he saw Clover and James sharing a hushed conversation that they would cut off when he walked in, or when they would be messing around with things they normally let be. He didn’t miss when Clover not so subtly catalogued what food they had, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. He also did not miss when James spent a whole day in his workshop patching up several large backpacks that looked like they hadn’t been used in several years. In such a small house they weren’t nearly as subtle as he was sure they hoped they were. But not everyone could be a highly trained spy, Qrow mused. 

The prerequisite was there. As much as he didn’t want them to, Qrow knew they were going to ask. He knew. So why was he still caught so off guard when they actually approached him about it? 

“We’re coming with you.”

“What?” 

He knew it was coming. So why was his disbelief so palpable?

“Clover and I are coming with you when you leave.” James said behind him. He was changing out his bandages for probably one of the last times. Qrow hoped he couldn’t feel the way his heart quickened in his chest. 

“You seem very sure of that fact.”

“Well Clover seems very set on the idea that you’re going to let us tag along. So much so he thinks we can just forgo the quote unquote melodramatics of asking you literally anything.” 

Clover. Of course he thought Qrow was going to say yes to them tagging along. That man had too much faith. 

“Why?” Qrow craned his neck to look back at James, “I thought you were both retired and happy out here.” he paused and after a second thought added, “Just the two of you.” 

James let out a deep sigh that Qrow felt tickle and newly shorted hairs on the back of his neck. He was beginning to wonder if James could sigh in any manner that wasn’t profoundly deep and tired sounding. 

“Yes. We are retired. But retirement isn’t the same as being decommissioned. And retirement doesn’t always suit everyone.”

“Yeah I kinda figured. Which, dare I be so bold, why did the two of you go into retirement in the first place? From the way Clover talks about how things were, you were living the high life with the elites of Atlas. Why leave?”

James went uncharacteristically quiet behind him.

“Hey hey, you’re not allowed to avoid this one James. You’ve both pestered me to no end about my past and scars, a secret for a secret and your lot is overdue.”

“You’ve seen my right side.”

Qrow’s mouth snapped shut. Oh. 

“Sure I’ve, uh, noticed your hand and maybe just a bit of shine below the collar.”

“Well, that’s why. There was, an accident back when I was a General. It took a great deal of wizards to keep me alive and a great deal more to have enchanted armor grafted onto my body. It’s like you said, there were some perks to being one of the top Generals of Atlas. But by the time everything was said and done my entire right side was metal, I just couldn’t return to active duty. It took almost three seasons for the armor to be enchanted and grafted on. Then a couple months of letting it take, then another half a year of learning to live again. A year and a half after the accident and Atlas had moved on. I figured I should too. And Clover, for reasons I’m still trying to figure out, decided to come and stay with me. Out here.”

“It’s because he cares about you.” it slipped out before Qrow could stop it.

There was a quiet laugh from James, “I suppose. He shouldn't have come out here with me though. I know he hates it. But I don’t know why he stays.”

He stays for you, Qrow wanted to say. James was a smart man and at the same time so frustratingly thick. Qrow wanted to say it but he couldn’t. This was not his affair to meddle in.   
The two would figure it out with time. He’d seen the looks they cast at each other when the other wasn’t looking. Or the way they talked about each other to him. There was admiration and trust, but also a profound longing and devotion they had to each other. He’d lived with them for a month and he could see they were pining for each other harder than his niece had gone after that one dark haired friend of hers. And they called him melodramatic. 

It was not his place. Instead he settled on changing the subject, “Okay but still. Why do you now both want to leave? You haven’t answered my original question. Yeah I get that retirement doesn’t suit either of you but why leave with me? Why not just go off with each other somewhere that’ll honestly be a little less dangerous?”

“Because we like you Qrow,” he could hear the smile in James’ voice and he knew that as much as he didn’t want it to be, it was true, “We really do enjoy having you around. And frankly, the state you showed up in makes us think that perhaps you should have some backup when you head out again.”

“Backup huh? You’re sure you’re not just using me as your quick ticket out of here?”

There was a sharp pull at his bandages, “You should know us better than that by now Qrow.” 

With an exaggerated groan Qrow flopped back against James’ legs and looked up at him, “As much as I hate to prove him right, I really don’t think saying no to you and Clover is an option in this case.”

“So that’s a yes?” James, bless his heart, looked hopeful.

“A reluctant one. The moment you two start to get in too deep I’m leaving your asses and you’re not going to come after me.”

“I suppose I can just as reluctantly agree to those terms.”

“Yeah and you’ll make sure Clover does too.” he rapped a knuckle against James’ knee, “Got that? The moment I decide things get too messy, I’m off in one direction, and you guys are hauling ass the opposite way.”

“Sounds reasonable.” James’ large, flesh hand gently patted Qrow’s shoulder letting him know he was set to go. Qrow stayed sitting, rolling his shoulders experimentally as he watched James walk off most likely to inform Clover of their victory. 

A small, guilty part of his was glad they were coming with him. It would be nice to have people he could trust to fight beside again. The innocent bubble of gratitude popped as a thorny thought threaded through his mind. At what cost. They had both already lost so much and now Qrow… 

He felt like he was dragging them out of their peaceful life. Somehow he had tricked them. They were both too kind to let him go on his own again. He had swindled them into caring about him and now they were going to follow him blindly into a battle they knew nothing about. They were going to get hurt. At what cost. And it would be all Qrow’s fault. 

At what cost. 

Qrow shook his head and stood, making a silent promise to himself. They had made it clear that they were coming with him one way or another. So he would make sure that no matter what happened he would keep them safe. Watch their backs. Give them a reason to trust him. Ensure that they would make it back to their little cabin in the forest. 

Qrow would keep them safe. At whatever cost to himself necessary. 

***

Now that they were all on board with the whole “leaving together” thing the house was in a proper state of anticipatory activity. James and Clover worked tirelessly getting whatever they thought they would need for the journey while Qrow spent most of the time anxiously working his body back out of its tense recovery mode. 

He’d had injuries before. And recovery times lasting longer than this one had. His body was built like a fighter’s and he hadn’t been completely loafing around for the last month so it wasn’t like he’d lost a whole lot of muscle. But it was still always a chore to relearn how his body moved and stretched and reacted after not using it for a while. 

He tried to stay out of Clover and James’ way which meant he was out back a lot. Behind the cabin was the perfect place for training too, he mused. 

Stacks of logs in varying sizes and shapes bordered the encroaching tree line. A large clay and brick stove sat in the center of the yard that Qrow enjoyed using for stretching and jumping around. The trees were also very useful. As he danced around one, jabbing and parrying like it was an opponent, he could see the score marks and chips where someone had done the same. 

Qrow trained hard. Every day he was out back flitting around the yard and training until he had to strip down to just his blouse in the frigid winter air. One day as he jumped and flipped around in an improvised parkour course, he spotted James and Clover shamelessly watching him through one of the windows. He ignored them as best he could but unfortunately the universe had different ideas. It was as he vaulted over a stack of wood that his hand slipped. His body turned and he barely had time to tuck in his shoulders before he was skidding ass backwards across the snowy ground. 

A string of muttered curses left Qrow’s mouth as there was the sound of a door slamming and Clover was standing over him. Smiling down with sparkling eyes and offering him a hand. 

“Have you no shame?” Qrow accepted it. 

“No not really.” Clover pulled him up, “But James and I just wanted to make sure you weren’t reinjuring yourself out here. Like you did just now. You okay? You didn’t just rebreak your ribs did you?”

“Gods that would be just my luck if I did.” Qrow poked his side. There was a dull ache and, though slightly creaky, his ribs felt sturdy.

Clover didn’t let go of Qrow’s hand. Instead he grabbed it with both and gently turned it over, inspecting Qrow’s rings and the scars decorated his skin, “Just your luck huh? Qrow, what exactly is your semblance?” 

“Oh. You, caught on to that huh?” 

“Well I’m not sure if you could tell from my subtle motifs and tasteful jokes, but mine is good fortune. And pardon me for saying but you seem to have a similar vibe about you only, opposite.”

“Misfortune. Heh, y’know now that you’ve said it, your semblance being that which it is makes sense for why mine hasn’t been causing much trouble.”

With a cheeky wink Clover released Qrow’s hand, “Well you know what we can chalk that one up to.”

“Luck?”

“Nope.” Clover sauntered back towards the house, “This one belongs to destiny.”

Qrow flexed his hand and looked at it, trying to decipher what exactly had fascinated Clover so much. Aside from a faint tingling where Clover’s fingers had brushed it was still just his hand. 

“Destiny, huh?” he shook out his shoulders and walked back to the beginning of the course. Whether that word would be a blessing or a curse in this scenario, would have to remain to be seen. 

***

Two weeks of preparation. Two weeks of painful anticipation for Qrow. Two weeks of absolutely dreading the moment they would all step outside the house together, laden with packs for the journey. At what cost? Two weeks that went by much too quickly. Because already they were there. The three of them standing on the edge of the tree line with only two bags between them. Clover had a solemn look on his face but the shine in his eyes betrayed him. James looked somber as ever and his metal hand rested on one of the two swords hilts that now rested around his waist. Now that had been a surprise. 

A couple days before they had left James had been fussing with one of the pillars that surrounded the fire pit. Qrow had watched him curiously until he had pulled several bricks away revealing a hidden crevice. From it he had pulled a long bundle that was wrapped in the Atlesian flag. Dual Process, he called them. Twin falchions. They looked identical with blue leather wrapped hilts and elegant curves along their blades. Delicate inscriptions that reminded Qrow of frost curled down the lengths of each. Nearly identical; save for the fact that one was bright silver and the other a dark, glossy metal that Qrow had never seen before. 

Clover had unearthed his old weapon too. It was a strange little contraption. Clover had explained how it worked in theory, though Qrow honestly couldn’t imagine it being any good in a real fight. But he could never tell with these two. 

And that left Qrow. Without his weapon he honestly felt quite naked. Light in a way that was too unstable. They would get to that later. For now he let his new companions bid farewell to their home. 

James shuffled his feet as he glanced back and forth between the house and the world beyond. Clover stepped up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, “We’ll be back James. Don’t worry.”

James smiled at Clover who returned the warmth. Suddenly Qrow felt like he was witnessing something he was not supposed to. In that moment he did not belong standing there as these two shared this something they had. 

The moment passed as James and Clover turned to look at him. 

“Alright Qrow, which way?” 

Qrow looked contemplatively out into the forest to avoid making eye contact with either of them, “Well first order of business, we need to get my weapon back. And I’m pretty sure I have a good idea of who took it. In fact that bastard was in town around the Winter Festival if I remember correctly. So first stop, town. We’re gonna dig up some intel then I’m going to tear that bastard limb from limb.”

“Wait, you don’t mean whoever that was that came to the cabin that one day, do you?” Clover matched his pace to walk on Qrow’s right. James took up his left. 

“That’ll be the same. He’s also the one who was responsible for this whole fiasco in the first place.”

“By fiasco do you mean your mission as a whole? Or just for the state you showed up in.” James shifted the pack on his shoulders, studiously looking straight forward. 

Qrow let out a dry laugh, “I wish Tyrian was the worst of our troubles. But no, he’s just another pawn. And a thorn in my side who’s come too close for comfort one too many times.” He let out a sigh and watched it disperse, “And that brings me to our second order of business. What exactly you two are stepping into here.”

“Yes that might be something good to know.”

“Hey, you were the ones who said you were coming with no matter what. I asked if you wanted to know and you were very explicit about ‘not until we leave’.”

“True,” Clover sighed, “and now we’ve left. So give us the mission details. What are we up against here?” 

“Well, I’m not much of a storyteller, so I’ll give you the short version.”

“Will there be a test?” Clover teased. 

Qrow only rolled his eyes and dove in the lengthy tale he unfortunately knew all too well, “We’re trying to take down a witch. A real nasty piece of work named Salem. Now, about a half a millennium ago the gods withdrew from their thrones. They believed that humanity should be allowed to flourish without their interference. So they chose to live among us instead, and watch our progress from a more inconspicuous standpoint.”

Qrow paused to see if either Clover or James had any questions or comments. He knew that knowledge of the gods’ existence wasn’t exactly widely recognized; there would always be skeptics and those of other beliefs. James was chewing his lower lip thoughtfully and Clover was looking expectantly at Qrow, waiting for him to continue. When it was clear neither had anything to say he wet his lips and continued: 

“Well, they didn’t leave this world completely. There were artifacts, relics that remain scattered across the world. And this witch, Salem, found one that jacked up her power and twisted with her mind and her body in ways that it shouldn’t have. That was a little over two hundred years ago.”   
“Wait, two centuries?” of course they would interrupt right after he’d started talking again. 

“Hold your horses Jimmy I’m getting there. Two hundred years ago, Salem messed around with powers she shouldn’t have and essentially became destruction incarnate. She made a real mess of things back then too.”

Qrow paused dramatically. James offered him a small waterskin which he graciously took a couple sips out of. Sated he returned to the story.   
“Anyways, so drunk was she on her own power, that Salem made it her mission to draw the gods back to this world so she could destroy them as well.”   
“That seems rather ambitious,” James muttered. He looked perturbed and Qrow was almost worried he was about to turn around and walk back to the house. Instead he continued to walk forward with the confidence Qrow recognized as belonging to a General. 

“Yeah, tell me about it. Anyways, before she went magic crazy, she had a family. The wizard Ozma and their four daughters. Ozma also had an apprentice, who he viewed as a son. They were royalty, ruling over a small prosperous kingdom of their own. After Salem started losing it though, she and Ozma had a disagreement. It ended with the entire kingdom being wiped off the maps. Only their four daughters, protected by Ozma’s apprentice, survived. The five of them formed a brotherhood, dedicated to stopping Salem and her insane mission. Unfortunately, she seems to be near immortal. And it’s taken many, many reincarnations of the brotherhood to keep her at bay. Oz was the most recent head-wizard. But now he’s dead, and that responsibility falls to the next in line.”

Qrow paused again for questions. Clover shook his head and Qrow took that as his cue to continue, “In the past two centuries, Salem has also built up her own following. They aren’t publicly known, though I’m willing to bet both of you have lived through at least one Salem-sanctioned disaster at some point in your lives. Fortunately, we have intel that indicates that her powers are weakening. Somethings up, and this might be the best chance we have to end this.” 

Qrow finished on what he hoped was an upbeat note. It sounded more strained than he would’ve liked. As much as he wasn’t the storyteller, he was even less the optimistic one.   
Clover and James both remained quiet for a moment, likely processing what exactly it that they’d just left ideal retirement for. 

James spoke first, clearing his throat, “Well, I won’t say that sounds like an easy fight. Nor can I say it was the exact breed of fight we were getting into. But if it’s about protecting innocent people and not just a personal grudge, I’m all in.”

“Same here,” Clover put a hand on Qrow’s shoulder and offered a reassuring smile. His green eyes seemed impossibly bright in the diminished light of winter, “We have your back now Qrow. We’ll help you see this through.” 

Qrow was at a loss for words. He still could hardly believe that these two were leaving their home for him, and now here they were with that declaration and Qrow could barely find his breath long enough to mutter a sheepish, “Thanks.”

“So, first order of business, you said it was Tyrian?” 

“Yep. Bastard is one of Salem’s top lieutenants. Real crazy son of a bitch too, dangerous. Scorpion Faunus with some nasty magic at his disposal. Last time I saw him he nearly got to me. I got out but he took my weapon. And before anything I’m gonna need it back.”

“Okay. Where do we start?”

“Like Qrow said earlier, town would probably be the best bet.” James broke his contemplative silence, “Soon after the winter festival word got back to me about a stranger asking around for a dusty old crow. No one could figure out what he meant and everyone knew better than to let on about anything new and unusual. Apparently, he left sometime last week, left quite the impression though.”

“Perfect.” Qrow growled, “If he'd been looking for me that’ll make this much easier.” Heat boiled up in Qrow’s belly as he thought about his last encounter with Tyrian. 

This time, his thoughts churned with fury, this time I’ll get you back. 

***

Not more than a day and a half later they found them walking out of Tinne, headed south. The townspeople had been agreeable towards James and Clover, wishing them much luck and paying back favors in the form of supplies. More than once an odd glance had been cast at the slightly tattered looking crow that sat on James’ right shoulder. Luckily no one questioned it. 

Qrow had discussed it with the two beforehand. He didn’t want to go into any towns as himself until Tyrian was dealt with. That man was Salem’s ears, and the sooner he found out about Qrow, the sooner he had to high tail it back to her and that could change everything. So for the first time in over a month, Qrow changed. His wings felt stiff and many of his feathers were out of place or broken. That was an easy fix though and while they were in town, he meticulously groomed himself, smoothing his down feathers and adjusting his wing and plume feathers.   
At one point one of his tail feathers fell out. He paid it no mind, feathers tended to do that, especially after a long time between changes. What he did mind was when Clover reached down and picked it up from where it had fallen. Qrow clicked at him in question and cocked his head. 

Clover chuckled and tucked the feather into one of his pockets, “What? It might be good luck.”

If Qrow had had his vocal cords he would have called Clover weird. But undercover was undercover so instead he just cawed in protest and flapped in a vaguely threatening manner. In the process James got a face full of wing that made him sputter and Clover laugh. 

Then James had reached up and scratched Qrow gently under his beak, “No more of that please.”

Maybe undercover wasn’t so bad. 

Regardless, once they had left town he was quick to change back to his regular self. From what they’d heard Tyrian had gone south towards Tinne’s sister town Beith. So that was the way they were headed too. Qrow, gently, flapped off of James’ shoulder and dove behind a nearby tree. He emerged around the other side as himself and cracked his back, “Ugh, bird form is great but it’s hell on my shoulders.” He cracked his neck, “So, south?”

“Towards Beith. It sounds like he has a good headstart on us though, I’m not sure if we’ll be able to catch up.” Clover worried his lip. A habit Qrow was pretty sure he’d picked up from James. 

Qrow cracked his knuckles, “Let’s get on it then. Tyrian might not have gone straight south. Knowing him he’s probably still lurking around the area somewhere. He always was a frustratingly good tracker.”

Normally Qrow would fly to his destinations. It was faster. Even if it was twice as exhausting. He’d been worried when they’d left that James and Clover would slow him down. He was pleasantly surprised to find that in fact the two had no problem keeping up his quick pace. They traveled fast and easy. Qrow was still worried that they wouldn’t catch up to Tyrian in time. But the universe loved to prove him wrong in all the best and worst ways. Whether this particular instance was good or bad luck, Qrow wasn’t sure. 

On their second day after leaving Tinne as they were nearing the outskirts of Beith, Qrow felt a prickle on the back of his neck. He ignored it first figuring it was probably just the cold. As the day continued the prickle got worse until it felt like every hair on his body was standing on end. 

“Qrow?” Clover’s gloved hand on his shoulder made him flinch, “everything okay?”

“Be on your guard.” Qrow’s voice was low, “I think there’s about to be trouble.”

As if on cue there was the sound of someone approaching behind and to the left of them and a slick, sing-songy voice wound through the air. 

“Well,” 

Qrow felt Clover tense next to him. He wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t expected Clover to forget that voice anytime soon. 

“If it isn’t my favorite little birdy come out to play. You’ve haven’t been very noisy lately, and I did so miss your song.” 

“Tyrian.” Qrow turned to face him, “Can’t say the same for you. Where is it?”

“Aww,” Tyrian stepped out of the woods and completely onto the path. His face was contorted in a crooked smile and his eyes were wide and glinted dangerously. Sometime since Qrow had last seen him he’d taken out his signature braid. His hair fell long and straight past his shoulders. A few stray strands were picked up by the wind and danced around his head, making him look slightly more manic than usual.

“Are you telling me I’ve been looking diligently for you all this time, and you only come looking for me when you need something? I’m hurt.” he waved his arms and emoted as he spoke, but his eyes never left Qrow’s face. 

“I’m sure. Now where is it?” 

“Oh, you mean this shiny little toy?” Tyrian turned slightly and Qrow could see a large oddly shaped bundle strapped to Tyrian’s back. Near the top a familiar red leather wrapped handle poked out from the brown fabric.

“As you can see, I’ve been taking very good care of it. Why? You didn’t want it back now did you?”

There was a pair of matching thuds on either side of Qrow as James and Clover both dropped their packs.

“Say he did want it back,” Clover shrugged off his coat as well, “are you intending on getting in his way?”

Tyrian’s expression darkened as he finally acknowledged Clover and James for the first time. His voice stayed jovial as he turned and Harbinger was once again hidden from view, “Oh Qrow! You didn’t tell me you were bringing new friends. I thought we were keeping this between just us old friends.” 

“Funny thing there Tyrian, we’re not friends.” Qrow drew himself up from his slouch as he also dropped his bag. 

“Oh Qrow,” Tyrian’s smile dropped and his eyes flicked from gold to purple and back again, “your words hurt me. I suppose now I have to hurt you back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the dialogue was a little dry this chapter. Writing exposition is a pain in the ass. I tried to keep it as concise as possible. Also I’m obsessed with Tyrian but with his hair down plz god can you imagine.


	8. Harbinger

The silence was poisonous. It felt heavy and thick on James’ neck as they all stood motionless. Everyone’s breath was different. James could see the short, steady breaths Clover was taking and the hot, angry ones that Qrow puffed out. Across from them Tyrian continued to smile. No one moved. Clover shifted his foot and the ice underneath his boot crunched faintly. Tyrian’s eyes slitted as they fixed on him. It was a split-second indication before he lunged. 

James was faster than him by a hair. Instinct had him pulling out his silver falchion to parry the blow. Crescent blades fixed to Tyrian’s wrists glanced off the broad side of his blade in a shower of sparks. Tyrian danced backwards and James shook himself, trying to clear the shock that the concealed weapons had prompted. Clover pulled out his weapon with a flourish and a flick. He glanced at James out of the corner of his eye. James nodded in silent understanding. They split. James ran for Tyrian’s right while Clover flanked his left. Tyrian was ready for them both. He twirled easily out of the path of James falchion and used his blades to block Clover’s swing. Qrow ducked past James and yelled, aiming to land a solid hit on Tyrian’s abdomen. 

He missed. With a manic giggle Tyrian bent completely backwards and passed under the swing. A chitinous scorpion tail appeared behind him, unfurling from under his long coat it caught him before he hit the ground and kept him up as he skittered backwards just out of any of their reach. 

“Ooh you’ll have to do better than that pretty bird.” Tyrian righted himself with his tail and used the momentum to sweep in fast and low. The stinger at the end of his tail swished past James’ ear. 

James parried, barely, and slashed at Tyrian’s stomach with his other sword. Narrowly avoiding disembowelment, Tyrian stumbled into Qrow’s range. He landed two solid hits, the sound of his rings connecting with Tyrian’s jaw had James grimacing slightly. He wondered if that was why Qrow wore them. Tyrian recovered from the blows quickly, hooking one end of his tail beneath Qrow’s legs and knocking him off his feet. It looked for a tense moment like he was about to stab Qrow right in the jugular when Kingfisher’s hook snagged one of Tyrian’s belts and yanked him backwards. James lunged forwards as Clover and Tyrian traded blows. He had hoped to catch the Faunus by surprise but was unpleasantly surprised in turn when Tyrian dropped to the ground beneath the swing of his swords and spun himself in a circle, landing numerous hits on both his opponents. 

James stumbled back. Qrow had by that time regained his bearings and regrouped with him and Clover. 

“We have to get rid of that damn tail,” he muttered, flexing his fingers. 

“On it,” Clover flicked the shiny green pin he kept on his collar and grabbed Kingfisher’s hook, letting the line go slack, “Cover me,”

James and Qrow flanked Tyrian, James slashing and Qrow darting in and landing blows where he could. Tyrian was a skilled fighter. It was evident in the way he easily fended them off from all sides and stayed smiling and giggling the whole time. Just when James was starting the worry that they were getting nowhere, Clover jumped in. Tyrian’s tail had flicked back, intending to hit Qrow, when he made his move. 

In an impressive show of skill and instinct Clover wrapped Kingfisher’s wire around Tyrian’s tail in several quick loops. The appendage thrashed wildly as Clover tightened the line and pulled. Both arms clearly strained as he pulled the line as taught as he possibly could. Tyrian screamed as the wire squeezed his carapace. He tried to lunge back at Clover but a few quick hits from Qrow kept him busy. The stinger weakly made a few jabs at Clover, missing every time. Then there was a sickening _crack_ as the wire crushed its way through the chitinous armor and into tender flesh. 

Clover danced backwards as Tyrian doubled forward screaming curses. Half of his tail lay twitching on the ground, oozing something dark and purple that steamed as it touched the snow.

“You _bastard **,**_ I’ll kill you!” Tyrian screamed and lunged wildly at Clover. There was foam coming out of his mouth and a manic, unhinged look in his eyes and sent a chill down James' spine. Clover parried the attacks but it was clear he couldn’t hold him off for long. Tyrian had become a beast, attacking ruthlessly through the tears of pain that made tracks down his cheeks. 

A cold touch on James’ left hand stopped him before he could provide support. Qrow was looking up at him with burning eyes.

“Mind if I borrow this for a quick second? It’s personal.”

“Uhh, sure?” James awkwardly handed his black falchion to Qrow, who winked before turning and running towards the other two, still locked in lethal combat. 

James adjusted the grip on his other sword and followed suit. Pain made Tyrian sloppy. The three of them landed more and more hits until Tyrian was a bloody mess. 

After what felt like hours there was a lull in the fight. Tyrian was breathing heavily. And a quick glance to his side showed that James’ companions were not without a few losses themselves. Clover had a large gash across his chest that looked like it would need stitches and Qrow was sporting several cuts and bruises in various areas of exposed skin.

“Well?” Tyrian’s voice was hoarse and broken, “we’re not done yet are we? Just when we’re getting to the fun part too. And what was that you said last time we met? Something about having a score to settle? Oh don’t back down now, _finish it!!”_ Tyrian screamed the last part and charged forward with intent to kill. Qrow watched him calmly slash for his throat, letting him get within a hair’s breadth before stepping coolly to the side. 

Tyrian slipped. 

On snow or ice or his own blood James couldn’t tell. But in that moment Tyrian slipped and fell flat on his stomach. With an angry yell Qrow switched the grip on James’ sword and stabbed Tyrian straight through his back. The scream was pitiful. A high-pitched whine as the air left Tyrian’s lungs to be replaced with blood. His tail twitched, his arms flailed weakly and James was reminded distantly of a scorpion that had been caught but couldn’t quite reach its pincers back to the hand that imprisoned it. With one last weak gurgling sound that James figured was probably supposed to be a giggle, he went still. The purple in his eyes faded to gold and then dulled. The chilling smile stayed, permanently plastered on his gaunt face. 

Qrow nudged Tyrian’s fallen form with the toe of his boot. He didn’t move. 

“Hmph,” satisfied that his foe was fully dead, Qrow pulled out the sword and gingerly handed it back to James before kneeling. The strange bundle that was strapped across Tyrian’s back had been torn slightly in the fight. James caught a glint of silver before Qrow blocked his view, carefully taking the whole thing off. With a silent jerk of his head he beckoned James and Clover to follow him. With one last check that their enemy was staying down they followed. Over the course of the battle they had moved a fair way off the road and it wasn’t until Tyrian and the growing patch of red snow around him was out of view that Qrow stopped and gently unwrapped the soiled brown fabric around his weapon. It fell away to reveal… definitely not what James was expecting. 

It was a thick shortened blade that looked like it was supposed to be longer. The hilt was wrapped in faded red leather and a small inset near in the grip was fitted with what looked like gears from a clock. James couldn’t begin to imagine what they were for. 

“It’s good to see you again old friend,” Qrow murmured and ran his hand along the engraving along the blade. His rings hissed as they slid across the metal, fingers feeling for any new nicks or scratches. 

“This is your weapon?” Clover sounded about as confused as James felt.

“Harbinger. We’ve been through a lot together, him and I.”

“It’s, a sword?” James peered curiously at it.

“Sort of, Oz helped me make it.” Qrow stood and pulled a small trigger mechanism in the hilt and the blade extended into a full, wicked looking weapon.

“And that’s not all, check this out,” Qrow closed his eyes and breathed out. His red aura flickered to life around his hands and some of it seemed to wind its way between the clockwork in the hilt. Slowly the gears started to turn and James watched, astonished, as the blade broke apart into sections and extended further to become a giant scythe. 

“Ta-da! Magic scythe.” Qrow grinned as he surveyed his weapon. James and Clover shared looks of slack-jawed disbelief.

“You can _do_ that?” Clover breathed, incredulous.

“Yep. It was Oz’s idea; to make a magic activated weapon. No one can activate it but me and it usually gives me the upper hand in fights. No one expects a weapon to be another weapon.”

“Qrow, that's incredible. And you can fight with that thing?” James reached out a hand before he could stop himself and pressed it flat against the broad side of the blade.

Qrow puffed up his chest with pride, “Sure can.”

“Well, I think I speak for all of us when I say I can’t wait to see you back in action in full.”

Clover whistled and joined James in examining the scythe’s blade. 

“Heh, well I’ll be sure to put on a show.” 

Qrow James Harbinger for a while longer while he helped Clover get patched up. It wasn’t perfect or neat, but it was functional and would last them until they got into town and could have a proper moment to rest up, “C’mon, we’d better get moving. We just killed one of Salem’s top lieutenants, I’m sure it won’t take her long to find out. And the longer we can stay under her line of sight, the better.” 

“So now what?” James fell into step beside Qrow. He had cleaned his blades during their brief rest and both were now once again safely sheathed at his hip while Harbinger was once again deactivated and safely strapped on Qrow’s back. 

“Well, Oz had five apprentices that he trained specifically to help defeat Salem. Four of them are safe with others of Oz’s network; we can get to them later. Right now the one that matters is Ozpin’s protege. The next in line I was talking about. Oz could tell something was coming before he died, and he had the foresight to lock Oscar away somewhere. I have a pretty good idea as to where but I need to make sure. We need to get to Oscar as soon as possible. If Salem manages to find him first, things are not going to work out in our favor.” Qrow’s brow was furrowed and he looked up towards the tops of the trees thoughtfully. 

James didn’t realize how struck he was examining how the streaks of grey in his hair shone in the late winter light until he realized Qrow was talking again and he had completely missed whatever he had said, “Sorry? I uh, tuned out there for a second what?” 

“I don’t blame you, there’s a lot to this whole mess. Maidens. That’s what we call Oz’s other apprentices. Codenames Spring, Summer, Fall. and Winter. Four young women with exceptional magical abilities that are scattered across the world. Well, three young women, and one little bitch.” 

“Ooh, sounds like there’s some bad blood there?” Clover prodded. 

“More than you know,” Qrow grumbled and adjusted his bag, “But that doesn’t matter right now. Right now, we need to get to Oscar and make sure he’s safe.”

“You said Oz locked him away?”

“Yep. Like I said though, I have a pretty good idea of where. There are only so many safehouses that Oz would have considered; and only one of them played into his particular sense of humor.”

“Oh?” 

“Kid’s last name is ‘Pine’. And the only safe house with enough pine trees to warrant Oz’s ironic sense of humor is about a week’s journey southeast from here.” 

“Southeast? Then that plays right into our current route. If we take this road straight into Beith there’s a small, well-traveled road that branches off there that’ll take us far Southeast.”

“So, you’re still coming then?”

James looked at Qrow in surprise, did he really expect him and Clover to turn back after one scrap?

“Of course, I see no reason for us not to.”

“Are you positive? Because we’re getting to the point of no return here.” Qrow laughed nervously. 

“Qrow, our point of no return was when we stepped out of our house. Once we take a mission, we don’t stop until it’s done.”

Clover nodded in agreement and placed a gloved hand on Qrow’s shoulder, “We’re with you Qrow. We’ll help you see this through.” 

Qrow looked down at his feet with a small smile and muttered a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Of course. Now, let’s keep going. If we push it we can make it to Beith by nightfall.”

***

They made it to the safehouse in less than a week. Qrow kept the trio going at an easy pace and seemed to have no trouble on the road, mollifying James anxieties about any residual effects of his injuries. There were few hiccups in their journey, save for the occasional bout of bad weather or disgruntled woodland predator. And James was surprised to find himself genuinely having fun. A small thrill of excitement sung in his chest when he woke every morning under the bare sky. He relished in the familiar feeling of his boots treading on the open road. The air he breathed never felt so light. And the company was exceptional. 

Qrow turned out to be quite the talker when the balance of the conversation was spread out between the three and he took to trading stories with Clover. As Clover recalled the epic tales of his old Atlas team, Qrow would spin stories of the insane antics and adventures of his. Here and there James would jump in with his own interesting anecdote. Otherwise he preferred to just listen to the two have their fun. He noticed that Qrow almost never talked about Oz. Only about his team and by extension, his family. 

James didn’t press the matter. And any thoughts of doing so were lost once they were close to the safehouse. They’d been travelling for several days and the landscape had changed dramatically. The young and slender oaks, maples, and birches that James was used to seeing were replaced by old pines and spruces. The tangled undergrowth gave way to vast empty swatches snow with only a few bare bushes here and there. Circles of orange pine needles surrounded some trees where the fall of snow had been halted by the densely woven canopy. The air was heavy with the sticky smell of pine. Conversation petered out soon after the landscape bleed completely into the pines. James felt like he was in a library. There was something old and sacred about these trees and the silence that fell around them. He felt like he had to talk in whispers. 

“Here, it’s just up ahead.” Qrow’s voice at a perfectly regular volume made James jump. 

James wasn’t sure how Qrow could tell. Everything looked the same between the craggy trunks as far as he could see. 

Qrow stopped short and James nearly knocked him over bumping into him, “Qrow?”

He smiled at something through the trees that James still couldn’t see, “We’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter update this time! It was my little brother’s birthday last week and I had two exams to study for so I’m afraid I didn’t have as much time as I would have liked to put towards this chapter. Next week is gonna deliver though!  
> Also I can’t wait to see what Volume 8 crumbs we get during the RWBY panel tomorrow (even though I have a class at the exact time it starts)! And who knows, maybe V8 will be Tyrian’s reckoning. He’s my favorite villain but man I can’t wait to see his ass get handed to him.


	9. The Crow, the Wizard, and the Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao whoops I’m back from another impromptu hiatus. Turns out double majoring in STEM takes up a lot of time. Who knew. Also my google drive decided to pick a whole bouquet of oopsie daisies and deleted literally everything I had for this story and I just barely managed to save the rough draft of this chapter so it was a while to come back from that. That being said I have gone back and changed some aspects of the story that I was not happy with and that’ll hopefully make this AU a little more streamlined. Thank you all so much for your patience and continued support,

“We’re here.”

Clover followed Qrow’s gaze until his eyes picked out the silhouette of a building between the trees. 

“ _This_ is your safehouse?” 

The structure was a low wooden barn that was dilapidated and leaning heavily into the territory of complete ruin. The wooden roof sagged inwards and there was a gaping hole near the back where it looked like a tree branch had fallen through. The red paint was barely red enough to differentiate the color of it from the browns of the forest and in some places had peeled off completely showing warped and faded planks. The door had fallen inwards and through it Clover could see the inside was similarly in disrepair. Poison ivy was everywhere, though the leaves were brown and rotted from the cold. It crawled up the walls and spilled through broken windows like some horrible window box plant. 

“It’s just illusionary magic. Simple trick really. Oobleck cooked it up. Guy always did like ruins and old places. Come on, it looks better once you actually get inside. Qrow waved a hand and the brambles of thorns and poison ivy shifted, revealing a small dirt path that led right up to the front door. He stepped towards it confidently. 

Clover looked over at James, who only shrugged and gestured with one hand. After you. 

Qrow was right. It was better inside. Once they were through the door Clover felt something akin to walking through a thin wall of cold water. For some reason he could faintly smell coffee. He blinked and stood in the doorway for a second trying to take in the drastic change in scenery. Only a moment passed before James was bumping into him, similarly disoriented. 

The inside was a complete one-eighty from the husk of a building they had seen from the outside. The walls and ceiling were in perfect condition. And the ceiling was actually glass, Clover noted with some surprise. He could see the swaying branches of the pine trees that surrounded the house. Silvery afternoon sunlight spilled in and splashed across the dark carpet that covered most of the floor. There was a large stone hearth off to the side that Clover realized would have been where the hole in the ceiling was from the outside. Towards the back of the barn was a loft that was covered by an actual ceiling and he could see several beds that were stripped bare but looked to be in good condition. Aside from being a little dusty, it was a nice space that looked lived in. 

Qrow was already throwing his travel bag on one of the sofas and propping Harbinger against the wall, “See, toldja. Safe house.” 

“I’ll give you this one.” James couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the glass ceiling, “I’ve seen nobles houses that look less posh than this.”

“Well, the Brotherhood has had several nobles in its ranks. And they figured that their followers and friends deserved some semblance of comfort. Especially when half of us are constantly on the run. Throw your stuff down, I’m gonna take inventory.” 

Clover dropped his bag and propped Kingfisher against the wall next to Harbinger, “James, can you get a fire started?” 

James nodded, still looking up at the glass ceiling, “Yeah sure. I’m on it.”

Clover smiled and chuckled slightly before going after Qrow, “So inventory?” 

“Yep,” he guided him back to a small alcove beneath the stairs that was packed with boxes and bundles of things Clover couldn’t name. Qrow pulled out a few rolled up blankets and handed them to Clover, “We’re probably gonna be staying here for a while I catch Oscar up to speed. Kid’s been asleep for a long time, who’s to really say how long it’ll take him to recover. So for the foreseeable future we might as well get comfortable. You okay there?” 

Clover adjusted the armful of bedding he now cradled and smiled over the topmost pillow, “Sure! I’ve got big arms don’t you worry.” His cheeky wink was lost as Qrow threw another pillow at him, unimpressed.

“Ack! Hey!” Clover laughed as the pile in his arms teetered.

“Tch, you deserved that one.” Qrow turned and headed towards the stairs, laden with his own plush cargo. Clover grinned and followed. He could hear the smile in Qrow’s voice. 

The loft harbored a sleeping space with four unmade beds and a couple small tables between them. Qrow dumped his armload on one of the beds and started making the one next to it. Clover took that as his cue to do the same. By the time they had finished and descended back into the main area, James had gotten a large fire started and was rummaging around some of the dusty cabinets. 

“Don’t bother,” Qrow hopped up onto a large, round table, “I doubt that any food left here, magically preserved or not, would be any good. We’ll have to dive into our own rations for this one.”

“Hmm,” James pulled out a few dented pots and chipped mugs, “I figured as much. So, what’s the game plan from here?”

Qrow craned his neck to look out the ceiling and Clover followed his gaze. The afternoon was quickly slipping into dusk and it wouldn’t be long before the forest would be pitch black.

“I think we should wait till tomorrow to retrieve Oscar. Spend tonight resting up ourselves then at first light I’m going to go get him. You’re both welcome to come.”

“Sounds good to me.” Clover watched James continue to bustle around, collecting things to use to make dinner, “shall we settle in then?”

Qrow nodded and slid off the counter, “James, if you’re looking for water there’s a well out back. No, give me that pot. I don’t care how big you are you’re going to drop something at this rate.”

Clover smiled and trailed along after them. 

***  
As promised, as the first streaks of pale yellow appeared in the sky the next day, Clover was rudely awakened by the clanging of pots and pans together. 

“Wakey wakey boy scouts! We’ve got work to do!” Qrow shouted from the ground floor and banged the dishware together a few more times for good measure before disappearing out the front door. 

Clover groaned and stretched, hearing several satisfying pops along his back and shoulders, “Since when was Qrow a morning person?”

“Better question,” James sat up in the bed across from him, “how do we make him stop?”

The threw on their travel clothes and descended as Qrow reappeared carrying several containers of water. Placing them down on the counter, he darted around and stoked the embers in the fire pit, “Morning. You two sleep okay?”

“Aside from this weird dream I had where I was getting harassed by a crow didn’t understand the function of kitchenware, yeah.” Clover slicked back his hair with one hand and yawned. 

“Ha ha. I needed you two up and that method always worked with my nieces so.” he gently tucked a cold cup into each of their hands, “We’ll have breakfast when we get back. For now we need to get moving.”

“Why the rush?” James took a sip of the water and then made a face, teeth probably aching from the shock of cold. 

“I honestly don’t know exactly how this spell that Oz cast works. Oscar is safe and asleep right now, and even after I pull him out of the spell, there’s no telling how long it’ll take his body to recover from almost a year in suspended animation. So the sooner we can get him out, hopefully the sooner he’ll wake up.”

“That’s makes sense.” Clover put his cup down and went to grab his boots.   
It didn’t take long for them to get suited up and out the door. Outside, Qrow blew into his hands, catching his breath with magic like he had that day all those weeks ago. Only this time it morphed into a stag. 

“Take me to him.” Qrow whispered to it, and the deer bounded off into the trees. Satisfied, Qrow set off after it.

The deer guided them deep into the forest. Straight to the heart of it, Clover realized, as the most spectacular tree he had ever seen came into view. It was ancient. It grew far above the smaller trees around it. The reach of its lush, needled branches cast such a shadow that the space around the base of the trunk was completely devoid of snow. Just a faint feathering of frost across the sheltered, mossy ground. At the base of the tree, the stag stood on top of a black stone cross and dissipated. The cross looked startlingly new compared to the old creature behind it. It was covered in orange pine needles and moss that did little to cover the name inscribed in it. 

_Dorothy Gale_

“Who’s Dorothy?” 

“I’m not really sure. I think she was someone Oz knew a long time ago. He never really told us. But this is it.”

Clover looked around, “Should we have brought shovels or something?”

Qrow laughed and stepped up to the tree, placing both his hands flat on the trunk with his fingers splayed wide, “No, he’s right here. I just need too…” he trailed off as his aura flickered around his hands and his brows drew together in concentration. 

He started muttering. Quickly, and quietly. Clover couldn’t make out what he was saying. 

Finally, Qrow stepped back and sighed, “Hopefully that did the trick. Oz was always better at pronouncing those stupidly over-complicated spells.” 

It seemed to, Clover noted. The bark of the tree began to move like gears. Shifting and interlocking and pulling back and away. The trunk of the ancient tree moved and rearranged itself. As it pulled back the shape of a large oval pod emerged, being held within the tree. It was green and, as he peered at it, made of shifting aura. The tree stopped moving when the pod was about half-way exposed. Qrow stepped forward and placed a hand on it. For a moment his own ruddy red aura flickered to life. Like a key to a lock the pod blinked orange and then vanished. Leaving a small body with no support to slowly tip forward and fall into Qrow’s waiting arms. The tree closed back up, leaving no sign that there had ever been a slumbering wizard in its trunk.

“Easy there kid, I gotcha,” Qrow adjusted the body in his arms and hooked one arm under their legs and looped the other around their back. He turned carrying them full bridal style and Clover finally got a good look at them. 

“That’s a child.” he was never one to shy away from saying exactly what was on his mind. 

“Uuhhh, yeah? This is Oscar, I told you that.”

“No, you told us Oscar was Oz’s prodigy and that he’s a very adept wizard. You did not mention that he’s still probably too young to even reach the top shelf without a stool.”

“Hey now he’s a growing boy, he’ll get there in the next couple years.”

“I think I’m gonna have to agree with Clover on this one Qrow. I mean, a kid is gonna defeat an ancient witch?” James looked skeptical at best. 

“Several kids, actually. Most of Oz’s late apprentices aren’t even half our age.” Qrow jerked his head indicating that they should head back to the cabin. “Well, except for one. But like I said we can get to her later.”

Clover dutifully fell into step next to Qrow, craning his neck to get a good look at the kid. He was definitely young. The way his cheek squished against Qrow’s sleeve and the cute curve of his nose told Clover he was barely into his teens. His skin was sun kissed and freckled in a way that made it look as though he hadn’t just spent months sleeping in a tree. As Clover gazed at him his eyes scrunched slightly and it looked like he might wake up. Instead he shivered.   
Clover frowned and shed his dark green coat, the kid wasn’t wearing more than a white blouse and pants that had seen better days, magical sleep or no he had to be freezing. 

“Here,” he stepped in front of Qrow and carefully draped his heavy coat over Oscar. Qrow adjusted his grip for a few moments for Clover to tuck the hem into his bicep so it wouldn’t fall off. His large coat was more than enough to cover Oscar and it took him an unfortunate amount of time adjusting the collar so it covered the lower half of his face before he realized how close he was to Qrow. Close enough that he could feel Qrow’s breath tickling the hair near his ear and smell the faint, spicy scent of smoke that always seemed to hang around him.

Oops. Clover had to consciously keep his hands fiddling with the coat before drawing back. Nice and casual. The gentle smile Qrow was giving him wasn’t helping matters. 

Clover cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair awkwardly, “He uh, he just looked cold. We’d better get him back to the safehouse.”

“Right,” Qrow chuckled, adjusting his grip on Oscar once again. The boy made a slight noise at the jostling and shifted slightly. 

“Kid?” Qrow murmured, “you with us?”

When it was clear he still wasn’t waking Qrow just rubbed his thumb against his shoulder, “Don’t worry Oscar, we’ll be back soon.”

They made it back without further incident and Qrow took Oscar straight up to the loft. 

“Clover, can you bring me up a pair of socks from my bag?” Qrow called down quietly.

It only took a minute of rummaging for Clover to find a pair and head up, “Hey Qrow, I got th-” he stopped short, absolutely caught off guard at the sight in front of him. 

All Qrow’s focus was on Oscar, who he’d laid in the empty bed with Clover’s jacket still draped over him. He was smiling fondly as he tied back the boy’s hair with a dark red bandana, humming a quiet tune that Clover didn’t recognize. He looked calmer and, _softer_ , than Clover had ever seen him before.

“Clover?” he finally turned to acknowledge the other man, who was still stuck halfway up the stairs in shock. 

“Uh, brought your socks.” Clover gently lobbed the ball of fabric over and Qrow caught them with one hand. 

“Thanks.” Qrow pulled apart the socks and tugged them over Oscar’s bare feet, “You can come up you know; he’s down for the count. You’re not going to wake him up.”

Clover shrugged and walked up to stand behind Qrow, who pulled the blankets on the bed up to Oscar’s chin. 

“He’s so young.” Clover commented. 

Qrow sighed sadly, “Yeah, most of them are. My nieces are both part of the brotherhood too. As much as I didn’t want them to be. For some, it’s an inevitable convergence of paths.”

“Is that why you haven’t been home to them?”

Shoulders slumped and eyes weary, Qrow pulled the thick blankets over Oscar, “Yeah, more or less.”

“I’m sorry.” Clover paused, choosing his next words carefully, “For what it’s worth. I’m with you through this. I’ll help in any way I can to get rid of this Salem person. And I know James feels the same. We’ll help you see your family again.”

Qrow’s smile was warm and genuine when he stood, and Clover’s heart skipped a beat, “Thank you Clover. I really appreciate that. Truly, I do. Now then,” he made shooing motions with his hands, guiding Clover towards the stairs, “let’s make some breakfast while this kid sleeps. I’m hungry.”

***  
It wasn’t until the next day that Oscar woke up. Qrow and James had gone out to get more firewood. Qrow hadn’t wanted to leave Oscar, but Clover insisted he go. He could tell the man was restless. He needed the fresh air.

So Clover was on Wizard-Boy Duty. He sat on the edge of his bed, sewing up a pair of travel pants. All was relatively quiet. Outside it had started to snow and a slight wind rattled the windowpanes on the ceiling. 

Qrow and James had been gone for about an hour when Clover heard a slight shuffling from the bed next to him. He looked over to see clouded hazel eyes blinking at the ceiling. He watched as Oscar turned his head, stared straight through Clover, and then looked back up at the ceiling. His eyes slowly closed again. Clover thought he had fallen asleep again, as he didn’t stir for several minutes. 

Clover shrugged; Qrow had told him that waking up from magic sleep was a process, the body had to readjust as the magic settled back into a more dormant state. He turned back to his sewing and there was a short period of peace when suddenly he heard:

“HEUGH,” followed by a loud thud. 

Clover’s head whipped around so hard his neck cracked. Oscar’s bed was empty and the blankets were tangled and half draped over to the side closest to the wall. He heard a shuffling from the floor and a small groan. When Oscar didn’t resurface, Clover put down his shirt and cautiously made his way to the foot of the bed and peered into the crevice between the wall and the bed that Oscar had fallen into, “You okay there?”

Oscar groaned again and scrubbed his hands over his face. His mouth moved like he was trying to speak but all that came out was a slight rasp before he curled in on himself in a coughing fit. 

Clover hovered nervously. For the first time since that night with Qrow, he really wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to give the kid some space, but he also didn’t know what the proper protocol was for helping someone who just woke up from a year of suspended animation. 

“Uh, here, let me go get you some water.”

Clover hurried downstairs, wanting to do something helpful. When he made it back up to the loft, Oscar had stopped coughing and was lying silently on the floor. 

“Oscar?” he placed the glass on a small table between the beds and leaned over, “Are you okay?”

Nothing. 

Clover was starting to panic when he heard the front door open.

“We’re back!” 

“Qrow! It’s Oscar…” 

In an instant there was a flapping of wings and Qrow dove into the loft in a flurry of feathers, “What’s wrong? Is he awake? Wait, where’s Oscar?!” 

“He’s over here. He woke up for a little and I thought he went back to sleep but I guess not? He just fell off the bed and went into a coughing fit.”

“Oh,” Qrow walked over and took stock of the teen who was still curled up on the floor, “Yeah, he’s Ozpin’s alright.” 

A sharp contrast to his earlier paternal demeanor, Qrow grabbed Oscar’s ankles, including the fabric that was tangled around them, and dragged him out of the crevice. Clover noticed that his eyes were still open, pupils dilated. 

“Come on kid,” Qrow hefted him off the floor and practically threw him back onto the bed, “it’s time to get up. We gotta get you some sustenance.” Qrow placed a hand on Oscar’s forehead and there was a soft red glow where their skin touched.

Clover watched, fascinated, as Oscar’s pupils contracted, then widened again as they finally adjusted to the light of the room. He coughed again and Qrow gestured for the glass of water Clover had left on the table. 

“Oscar? Oscar. Come on kid, up and at ‘em.” Qrow took his hand off his forehead and lightly tapped his cheek. 

Oscar blinked a few times before his eyes fully focused on Qrow and he rasped, “Qrow?”

“Yeah it’s me. I know you’re tired but we need you to eat a little before you can rest okay?” Qrow helped Oscar sit up and offered him the water. 

Taking his cue from Qrow, Clover went downstairs trying to think of something that would be easy on an empty stomach. He stoked the fire as James fell into rhythm beside him, “Everything okay up there?”

“Oscar’s up. Not sure in what condition, but Qrow said he needs food.” 

James nodded in understanding and retrieved their supplies. They ended up just warming up some slices of salted meat and toasting some bread. The two worked in silence. From the lost there was the sound of hushed voices. Then much to Clover’s dismay, the quiet sound of crying. Clover looked at James who seemed just as uncomfortable and uncertain. 

They finished cooking the food and Clover piled it onto a plate, grabbed a fresh cup of water, and made his way upstairs. The sight that met him at the top made his heart sink. Oscar was wearing Clover’s jacket, hugging his legs to his chest and his hands lost in the overly long fabric. The collar was turned up hiding the only part of his face that wasn’t already hidden by his knees. Qrow was on the bed next to him gently rubbing his back. 

Clover stood awkwardly for a second, not sure how to make his presence known. He shifted a little and just his luck, a floorboard creaked. Qrow looked up at him and a small smile lit his somber face, “Hey.”

“Hey. I brought some food.” 

“Thank you, Clover.” Qrow’s smile widened, though the stress lines around his brow did not smooth out. 

Clover went to set the plate down on the table when Oscar mumbled something. 

“What’s up bud?” Qrow leaned in closer, moving his hand up to Oscar’s head to run his thumb along his temple.

Oscar turned his head slightly and there was a muffled sniff before he repeated himself to Qrow. 

“Okay. It’s alright, take your time.” Qrow moved his hand back down and continued his ministrations, “He says thank you; for the food and the jacket.” 

“Of course.” Clover dared to ask, “Is, everything okay?”

Qrow sighed, “I’ll be right back.”

Oscar nodded in acknowledgement as Qrow stood. 

He jerked his head, indicating Clover join him on the opposite end of the loft. 

“I just told him about Oz.”

_Oh._

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Ozpin was his mentor, right?”

“Yes; though that term doesn’t do justice to their actual relationship. They were much closer than just a teacher and a pupil.” 

“Will he be okay?” Clover looked over to Oscar, who had uncurled and was chewing on some of the meat Clover had brought him. 

“Yeah. Oscar’s a tough kid. He just needs some time. Once we get some food in him he’ll probably go back to sleep and be ready to kick ass when he wakes up again.”

Clover hummed in thought, “Okay. I’m going to back downstairs. James and I made food for all of us whenever you come back down.”

“Alright. Don’t wait for me, I’m gonna make sure he gets back to sleep before I come down.”

“Sounds good. Let us know if you need anything,” Clover reached out and gently clapped him on the arm. 

Clover excused himself as Qrow took up his post beside Oscar once again. 

Downstairs, he and James ate in silence. Outside the weather worsened and snow began to pile up on the ceiling, throwing the room into a light dusk. 

Qrow appeared a short while later carrying a half empty plate, “He’s out again. Probably won’t be up again for a while.”

The three men holed up for the rest of the day, playing card games that Clover had brought along. In spite of the relatively heavy atmosphere of the day Clover found himself laughing and enjoying the time. He didn't know when they would be able to do this next. He savored it while he could.   
***  
Clover woke in the middle of the night. He stared at the ceiling for a while listening to the sound of Qrow’s gentle snoring and James’ restless tossing. Something was wrong. Clover turned over onto his other side. Oscar’s bed was empty. Clover was up like a shot. He slipped out of bed and peered down at the rest of the house. The fire was burning low but he could just make out the shadows of a figure curled up against the arm of the couch. 

Clover was careful not to wake either of his sleeping companions as he made his way down. 

“Hey,” Oscar didn’t acknowledge his presence, “Oscar? Are you alright?”

Oscar was staring into the fire. In one outstretched hand, two small lights, one green and one orange, slowly circled each other. He was still wearing Clover’s jacket.  
Clover took a seat at the other end of the couch. He still didn’t know a lot about this situation. He knew Ozpin and Qrow had been close. He knew Oscar was Ozpin’s pupil, and the two were like father and son. And he knew Ozpin was dead, and Oscar was grieving. Just like Qrow. 

Clover sighed quietly, stretching and cracking his back on the couch. Focusing on unknowns was never his strong suit. That was James’ area of expertise. James was good with hypotheticals; anticipating outstanding variables and accounting for them as needed. Clover was best with certainties. As long as he had the information laid out in front of him, he could figure a way out. 

And in this situation, his certainties were that there was a child wizard on the opposite end of the couch from him, freshly awake after being in a magical coma for a year, and trying to cope with the news that his mentor was dead and he was now the head of a centuries old brotherhood responsible for taking down the most dangerous witch in the world. 

Clover worried his lip. That was a lot. He couldn’t do much for Oscar’s emotional state. He barely even knew the kid, trying to comfort him now would just be rubbing salt into the wound. He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Clover was sticking with Qrow and James. So he could help with the brotherhood as they went forward. Right now though. Right now was when Clover needed to do something.

Clover shivered slightly. For a magical safe house, it was surprisingly drafty. Actually… That gave him an idea. Clover stood up, looking briefly over at Oscar. He was still staring into the fire. Magic globes still spinning silently in his hand. Clover went back up to the loft and pulled some of the blankets off Oscar’s bed. He debated for a moment whether or not he should wake up Qrow. 

One look at the sleeping man, his ringed hand curled cutely next to his head and hair mussed up into a feathery mess, and his heart melted. He couldn’t do it. Instead he gently brushed a few stray strands away from Qrow’s eyes. 

He checked on James too, who had at some point tossed and turned his blankets off his bed. Clover dropped his armload of bedding to untangle the mess near the foot of the bed before gently pulling it back up over his friend. 

Hey, if he was taking care of one he might as well make sure they were all comfortable. 

Back downstairs he took the blankets and draped them over Oscar, who started at the sudden contact. The magic in his hand dissipated.

“You’re okay. It’s just cold in here.” Clover murmured, smiling reassuringly.

“Oh. Thank you Clover.” Oscar looked up at him through tired eyes. The fire glinted off the hazel of his irises making them look gold.

“Of course Oscar. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

“Hmm.” Oscar hummed noncommittally and went back to staring at the embers in the fireplace. The magic in his hand started back up. Only now the colors were red and green. 

Clover knelt in front of the dying coals and threw in a few more logs. It only took a couple jabs from the poker before the flames licked up the sides and jumped into a much brighter fire. Immediately the room warmed. 

Content with his work, Clover went back to his post on the couch. And then he sat and waited. He’d had his share of quiet nights spent awake in mourning. Especially in the early days after James’ incident. Back when they thought they were going to lose him. He remembered how lonely those nights had been. Awake in the cold, just sitting staring into the dark. Not caring enough to even light a fire to warm himself. 

That was the least he could do right now. Make Oscar comfortable and keep him company until he fell asleep, or until morning came. 

_Fttcsshh_

Clover looked up to see Oscar’s open hand slowly close, extinguishing the globes of light. His eyes drooped down further. Eventually closing and extinguishing the golden glow that had been reflecting onto his cheeks. 

Standing, Clover snatched up the pillows he had brought down and piled then where he had been sitting. Then he went over to the other side of the couch and gently nudged Oscar until he fell onto the pile. He took a second to rearrange the blankets over him. Satisfied that he was comfortable and warm, Clover threw a few more logs onto the fire before going back up to his own bed. 

It was a while before sleep came to him. He couldn’t stop thinking about the mission that laid ahead. There was so much he still didn’t know. So many uncertainties. Unaccounted for variables. He could do it though. He was certain if he stuck with Qrow and James, they could make it through this. The thought was calming, and it carried Clover into the warm inkiness of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who has been with me through this story this year. Whether you left kudos, a kind comment, or even just took the time to read my work, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. You all have made my day better more times than I can count and helped me get through this awful, hellish year. I’m going to continue to work hard in 2021 to hopefully finish this story, and deliver more great writing for you all. Thank you again, you have my undying love and gratitude.


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